one can count time in breaths
time speeds up when we breathe faster
a stitch is a breath
she inhales every time she puts a needle
through the cloth
through the leather
through the skin
she exhales watching the thread persistently repeating its long journey
thread becomes the extension of her body, her hand, her gesture
for the length of the breath – she only watches the needle
she can see her inner landscape in this gesture, the movement of the needle
she can see her reflection in the rhythm
abstracted from reality, existing on its own, in-between dreams and waking world
we keep the needle and thread in the beautiful
embellished box
same place we keep memories
every meeting leaves a mark on the skin a scar
a crack on the stone
skin is a wrap another type of cloth
a layer of care a mother gives her child, building the bond with the beast inside her
the unknown of child’s future is every mother’s pain but
knowing child’s future is infinitely worse
for every child
breaking out of care is to break out of your own skin
out of comfort of your home and body
to break out and to take her first breath
on her own
(Image: Tracey Bush: Cleopatra’s Needle/L’Obelisque de Louqsor. A hand drawn map in sepia ink which reunites two Egyptian obelisks by water. The map follows the Thames to the estuary, through the shifting sandbanks of the Channel and along the sinuous path of the Seine to Paris.)