I need not tell you my story.I will show you my handsso you can study the linesthat have intersected,created,loved,and workedthrough this journey of life.Notice the ageof my veins,the bruises and scarsthat have implementedinside of them.Touch my swelling knuckles,that have pounded so many timeshelping in their decay,silently telling of the myth of meand the things we pretendno one sees.These are the mapsof all I’ve ever seenand all I have been.Each freckle,callous, and breakindents the gestures of my existence.Admire my extremitiesand the way they gently touch your skin,my hand fitting in yours,and the pulse of life that runs through them.We are connected this way,in the way we help each other,we comfort one another,and at times push away.They are the topographical depiction of my timeline.