Touch has a memory.
Touch is the first language, older than words.
It carries memory across skin, a whisper of presence,
a bridge between solitude and belonging.
Life is not counted in hours but in intensities:
the hand held, the tears shared,
the laughter that reverberates long after silence.
It is a brief flame,
made radiant not by permanence,
but by the touch,
the feeling,
the courage to live it fully.
De Caldes Heritage Collections
