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.
I keep coming back to one photograph.
Creative Non-FictionThe world which is changing so fast every minute and second, where we all are busy in our lives, that we always have to be on our toes, afraid of bein
Creative Non-Fictionyou were older than me by three minutes.