I want to call it jazz...because it is the sound that is carrying me along , the rythym of the shuttles, only two...for now. If I name it is it art?
The diamonds are compelling, something about, slowing down feeling compelled to weave for the moment , not needing to know where it is going....a slow walk through a damp forest. And yet I have such a formed idea of where I am... Just not where it is going...
Maybe it's the jazz....
It's been a week of walking past with a glance, not even wanting to sit down, and then here am I... Pausing so soon.
But it is the quiet time in the house with no real walls. And I am wondering how much I will weave and unweave. None of it quiet the clanging and banging of wood metal and string....
