Love is All, Love is you
or the catalog of the self-touch
or the catalog of the self-touch
Next time you get on a bus, subway or train, look at the people. Everyone is busy with themselves.
Everybody has their own thought, and looking to what matters to he or she at the moment, let it be the landscape, the floor or the subway map.
But everyone, with no exception, has a member on top of another. Everyone has some kind of need to have a leg crossed over the other, or a hand resting in the lap.
We need our touch as much as we need to breath, we need our toch to feel complete.
Everybody has their own thought, and looking to what matters to he or she at the moment, let it be the landscape, the floor or the subway map.
But everyone, with no exception, has a member on top of another. Everyone has some kind of need to have a leg crossed over the other, or a hand resting in the lap.
We need our touch as much as we need to breath, we need our toch to feel complete.
Imagine yourself completely free of this self-touch. No arms crossed, legs apart, hands in the air. Does it feel free? Maybe, but does it feel confortable? No, not at all.
We need to feel ourselfs, all the time. We need to know that we are here.
We need to feel ourselfs, all the time. We need to know that we are here.
Somos o contrário da estrela-do-mar,
Somos bichos-de-conta.
Love is old, love is new,
Love is all, love is you
Love is all, love is you
