to touch

This was last year. I didn’t have enough space to share my visit at Yap-Sandiego Ancestral House. 

Anyway, I still want to come back here. Sometimes when I am here, I start to believe that old things are meant to be shared, not with the eyes, but with the hands. As if it is only the hands that can understand the beauty of the past. As if it is only the hands that can understand those things that cannot be seen by time. When you touch an old chair or an old sculpture of a saint, you feel a language which your hands can only understand. 

Sometimes, when someone can’t talk of the past, you just need to understand  his hands, its closing, its openness, its clutch, its willingness to touch.

Reflection/Pictures

Reflect

Doll with the child

Mother with the child