Of late I’ve been thinking a lot about thread. This I feel is due to the new cross-stitching hobby that I recently developed due to the lockdown life that we have found ourselves in. As I sit in front of my cloth, what will I create today? What life form will appear on the white fabric that sits on my lap?
Each night in the living room, my needle quietly weaves its story in and out of the fabric. I measure out my string and make my merciless cuts when I have finished the task at hand. I feel almost like a distant kin of the Fates—the fantastical image of the three Greek goddesses hunched over the spindle, the scissors, and the thread. Our lives in the mercy of these grandes dames to determine which way our strings will run and when we will feel the cold cut of the scissors and the end as we know it.