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Saga o rukama - blog

Hands are a divine gift to man, like wings to angels, like feathers to birds. When we are born, someone’s caring and impatient hands welcome us, when we die, gentle, soothing hands say goodbye to us. Works of art are created with them, we hug, love, caress with them, and we defend ourselves with them. Created in pairs, with ten restless fingers, they are a unique creation of the creator, authentic, unrepeatable and unique.

They have their own story, each finger is a microcosm of our entire being, a tangle of the finest nerves, and on the palms of our hands, ancient peoples used to tell fate. Calloused hands speak of hard work, worried hands are parenting pains, angry hands are bitter pains…

The most beautiful hands are old hands, withered like yellowed flowers, with age spots, the stamp of a wasted life, but so touchingly fragile and transparent, with prominent veins that seem unreal, primeval, reminding us of the transience of our existence. Invisible energies are channeled through them and they shine like a beacon, both good and bad, but the traces of bad actions leave a mark on them, so the fingers are mostly shriveled, intertwined like a hedge of shortened, nervous, movements. Hands of fine, positive energy are what we always notice on a person, they radiate a special light, peace, they seem warm and soft like down.

The hands of the masseur who do their work with great love and live for it with every breath of their being are the hands of the sculptor of your body, the connoisseur of your every vein, every movement, touch he makes is unique, blessed, created just for you, to shower your body with warm energy and the soul.

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