Sequence.
Weaving. No, woven.
I feel absolutely certain of nothing except maybe that if I
keep weaving these ideas, thoughts and memories together in front of me, they
will begin to make some sort of sense.
Threads coming together, image or pattern appearing.
As I weave I notice how the product is the same whether I’ve
pieced it together from every cardinal direction or carefully laid a frame east
to west and one by one, threaded from south to north, travelling west to east
until the frame is full, taught.
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