I think about the morning we woke to fresh snow, the lily in the window framed by the trees and street outside, all white. I think about it all the time
To be in love with a thing that blooms and fades is to be in love with the world, the rhythm of change, but still I ache to see you go. We will meet again, we will never be the same.
•8/9/2020•
The first time wool meets skin, fabric feels flesh, the garment bending and contorting with the movement of the body. The first fitting in 5 months. still a ways to go.
