weavers

 

 

this is beside the front door.
i am watching Jude's small plain girlscout loom. thinking.
these belts belonged to Dora, an extraordinary woman who
has been gone from this plane for a long time. she was
tiny, had a snow white french twist held in place with
a silver comb. she was a Tai Chi Master. there was a
period of time when we needed to wait together in a very
large room with floor to ceiling windows across an expanse
of a wall. at night. outside was a woods and pond and often
the moon. beautiful hard wood floors, no furniture.
space.
Dora would practice her forms while waiting. i would sit on
the floor and watch. she most often wore her black tai chi
jacket and pants. was her "uniform for living" like my denim
jumpers are. was then in her 80's. sometimes her sleeve
would ride up with a elegant and silent gesture and i could
see the numbers tattooed on her wrist from Auschwitz.
she wore these belts that stood out against the black jacket.
there would be two of her...her, and the reflected her in the
windows.
in the second picture, i saw that someone had woven an egg
case. i like that.