Hands waving, the speaker talks. They talk with their mouth, saying things of fire and passion and no importance. They talk with their hands, flourishes and gestures to the uninitiated, a second speech to the speaker's cohorts.
Look how the fingers curl when the speech calls for action! Our numbers have been counted, the hands say.
Look how the arms swing wide as the speech describes a shining utopia! We are scattered but still connected, the hands say.
Look how the hands are clasped in a fierce and rousing crescendo! They will never find us all, can never find us all, the hands say.
Polite applause follows the speaker away from the podium. Eyes hooded, ears closed, the speaker counts who slaps their hands together, who golf claps, the rhythms and cadences, left against right or vice versa...
The speaker counts their numbers.
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