These are the hands of an artist. They create beautiful mosaics out of broken tile and glass. They transform shattered plates into birds and butterflies. These hands suffer cuts and bleed, endure dryness from mastic and grout, and have nails that are never manicured because it would all be ruined within the day.
These are also the hands of a Mother who takes care of her child. These are working hands that can type lightning fast and sort through paperwork with ease. These are compassionate hands always ready to give comfort to friends in need. These hands are so many things.
These are my hands.