Where does the caress of your hand in my arm come from? Does it start with a thought, with our bodies coming together, with the lethargic gesture of the fingers resting on the skin? In the same way, where is the sea born? Where is the sky born? We would say the clouds are their border. Then I wonder which is the border between your hand and my skin, whether the air or the invisible clouds keep us apart, unique in the illusion of a body of one’s own. But by melting into the caress, we also melt the blue of the sky and the waves of the sea, and even the clouds join our secret rebellion. Then, the sea turns into waves that caress the rocks, and your hand caresses my arm and I wonder if your hand caresses, or if it is your hand that is caressed.When we melt into the caress, we also melt the blue of the sky and the waves of the sea, and even the clouds join our secret rebellion.