Carrie spent her youth paddleboating the mirrored lakes of Switzerland, discovering hidden waterfalls, trekking up mountains. It was magical, but lonely. She dreamed of touching everyone she met. She dreamed of a vocation, a calling. She dreamed of digging her thumbs into strangers’ feet and pressing into their backs with her knuckles. She could feel the warm oil, the sitar music, the mechanical reproduction of rain. She dreamed of using her compact, powerful hands for healing. For massage.