TOUCH COMES - D.H. LAWRENCE
Touch comes when the white mind sleeps and only then. Touch comes slowly, if ever; it seeps slowly up in the blood of men and women.
Soft slow sympathy of the blood in me, of the blood in thee rises and flushes insidiously over the conscious personality of each of us, and covers us with a soft one warmth, and a generous kindled togetherness, so we go into each other as tides flow under a moon they do not know.
Personalities exist apart; and personal intimacy has no heart. Touch is of the blood uncontaminated, the unmental flood.
When again in us the soft blood softly flows together towards touch, then this delirious day of the mental welter and belter will be passing away, we shall cease to fuss.
Bill Henson Untitled 1994 / 95 typc C photograph, adhesive tape, pins, glassine 200.1 × 244.5cm