The Stories Hands Tell

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This past week I’ve been thinking about my hands a little more than I usually do. It all started on a morning run last Friday. It was a familiar stretch of sidewalk, one I usually run over at least twice a week. It’s well-lit and not strewn with fall leaves like so many parts of the city are right now. There are some funky, out-of-place bricks – but I know that. I had never so much as stumbled on them. Until Friday when I fell. Continue reading