Texture brings us closer to ourselves and further away from words. Sometimes all we have is what we feel. Our fingertips take us to unspoken places and tell us past stories that slipped between consciousness.

Silk reminds me of that one day. A moment that I can’t recall completely but I know that it kept me. The soft cool wind on a summer eve traces against my cheek. The curves mimicking the shape of my being. Where I was going that night doesn’t matter but I know the rhythm of the pavement under my heels. The fibers coddled me and I felt both seen and disguised at once. A mystery. The colors in the sky whispered in hues that spoke to my glory and my grief. I forgot your face already but my hands can trace the shape of your lips from memory. And the lines begin to levitate and form shapes inside me.

stay with me