|final bits of fabric, final cone of yarn|
|different ways of winding|
Held safely? Held impenetrably? How can I get at these memories now ... could you get at them, if you wanted to? Unwinding the ball of thread, can I share my memories with you? Would either of us want to make that effort? Would the ball itself - its surface - be sufficient for us to be able to connect with each other, with the place, as we talk about it and what it holds? How is living different from remembering? How is remembering a part of living? Do we only have an identity because we have a memory?
How, you may well ask, is this a book? Well, it has sequence and it contains a narrative. Not text, but a narrative just the same. It can't be opened and "read" ... but I did document its making, and running through those photos allows for the construction of your own narrative.