My grandma asked me to disentangle her necklaces. It was her manner to rather command than request. To give and immediately take. Looking at my hands she declared that my fingers were just the right size for the task ahead. I was about nine years old and although my fingers were small the task of unraveling those dozens of thin and intricate silver and gold necklaces seemed to take forever.
But at a certain point a switch had been flipped. As if those necklaces had influenced the track of time. Shiny, shimmering necklaces, the feel of the metal, the big clock ticking away the seconds. I know now that this was my first ASMR experience – a tingling sensation runing down from the head over the scalp along the spine.