Why do you always choose that one place on the sofa? Why that mug? Why that old T-shirt? Why does a child reach for one toy when there are twenty beside it? Why do you hold your cigarette in that one familiar way?
They hold a space so deep in our hearts, a strange comfort perhaps another human couldn't compete with.
A couch is just a couch, I argued.
But why do I find myself sleeping on that one couch, in that one position, in that one corner every day?
It's the familiarity, a known feeling and a sole comfort only your body realizes.
You unknowingly can trace every crevice, twist and turn, cinch and cut on that couch.
A familiarity without communication, something even words from the mind and emotions from the heart couldn't form with a living being. Your body makes it with an inanimate, lifeless, insignificant, non-breathing object without purpose.
The body feels beyond words, and that intimacy is beyond powerful.
Surely.
Imagine what it can be like when this bodily familiarity mixes with another body.