The thread of my life is one of many colors.
It had a beginning I have no awareness of, a beginning that was the result of others threads.
It has and end I am deeply aware of. When my spool will reaches its end, I will be no more.
The thread is made of mixed fibers, some are soft and warm, some are sturdy or flexible, some will prick your fingers.
Colors change as you go through it, some colors are muted or earthy, some are bright and warm, at times so bright they will burn your sight, or colorless like a fishing line.
I cannot see the colors ahead, I can only see what was knitted behind. There are rough and tight knots, patterns that bring joy, patterns I have forgotten and patterns with invisible threads that were knitted even before I came to be.
The best patterns, the ones with more meaning, are those knitted with the threads of others. Some ugly ones were also created that way.
I don't know what I will knit in the future. All I know is that when my spool runs out, I want to leave a beautiful pattern that some will see and others will use.
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