I cannot count the stitches in my work, I cannot count the thoughts. All I can do is knit. Let the yarn and the needles slide. Let the tiny loops hide my feelings from the world, for I can carry them no more. The yarn it speaks to me, tells me what it wants to be. And in return it holds my secrets, it holds my dreams. Let the yarn and the needles slide. The needles whisper to me "What do you want? What do you need? Tell me everything!".

I had forgotten. . .

When planning to chat on the phone with someone in a different time zone it is imperative to be sure you know exactly how many hours difference there are.

devious plans

Cincinnati, prepare to be knitbombed.

Spindling away the hours

There is something so meditative about spinning yarn. I have been spinning all day, and I show no signs of slowing! There will be some pictures as soon as this rainstorm passes, and perhaps my first etsy listing of the year!

I have been feeling quite productive as of late. I think it's the spring. The world is coming back to life, and I am awakening from my hibernation.

recurring thoughts

I keep imagining humans walking around with their heads in a bubble. we all live in our own bubbles. We see and experience things through this bubble of our perceptions. We all drift around in these bubbles, occasionally rubbing up against other bubbles. But we never break through our perceptions to the reality of things. Reality is unknowable.

I am a goddess
on a high throne

oh! how I hunger
oh! how I thirst

blood I desire
flesh I require

more! more!

give me all you possess
and forever be blessed!

Will you?

Will you? Oh I dream, but do not dare to hope. Will it ever happen? Is it real? Oh all these things I feel.

4x6 collage on bristol board