The feeling of you in-between my fingers, both of us made from a unique creation and bonding of art. The way you allow me to hold onto you, spill out into you my darkest secrets an my gloomiest dreams. The first time we met we became one, you held no judgements as my patterns of craftsmanship changed while I matured. I matured but never too old for you! Because you were all I had when I was in the darkest of spaces and there was none else to turn too. As I held you tight I give thanks for the root that you come from. For without the destruction of such root there would be no me, because I did not become until the first time you guided my hand to the paper and our connection was bound!