My late counterpart¬† is Catherine Sloper or Madame LaFarge. Ladies waiting, one for a knock at the door, the other for the sound of metal cleaving bone, then, the satisfying “thump”. Both ply their particular needles as they wait for the change from what is to what could be.

Knotting threads

I am knotting threads on the underside of my redundant fancywork. This will ensure its durability on its flight into a vast wasteland of trivialities. The colors of this piece are mutable and mutating. I can hardly see them for their unwillingness to be described. Their common names escape me. They are like the colors of decorator paints; shadow yellow, unwhite, even more unwhite, red like green, sunlit black, and so on.