2025.10.07
In the calm layers of Dawn, Jane started her work. His fingers went into the air as if you were tracing invisible threads, laughter, whispers and silently shining. Every tension that touched him became unconscious – echoing a forgotten moment. Some threads were thin and broken, others are bright and flexible, gently murmuring.
Jane awakened them in delicate tapestries – the faces that once smiled, words that were never called aloud, gestures are suspended by time. His loom was unseen, yet when he worked, the room shone unconsciously. When the tapestry was complete, he held it against the light, let his stories breathe. The memories of the woven would gradually dissolve, from which they came, but their warmth always remains.
Once, a child asked her why she smiled when her creations were over. Jane replied, “Because their purpose was never to live.” “Their purpose was to be felt again.” For this, it was not to be made but to release – to allow the fabric of life to be open, unsafe and forgiveness.
As the twilight reaches, the air around it shines unconscious, every thread enters the horizon. Jane rested her hands, her palms shine with a soft sparkle. In his eyes, one can see a glimpse of countless lives, all made of his soft crafts.