There are feathers falling slowly outside my window on the fifteenth floor downtown, drifting by in iridescent grey clumps. Somewhere, an angel is molting.
Working very diligently on the exchange shawl, and am almost to the point where I will have to rewrite the pattern. I knew this was coming when I changed it from the circular pattern it was written as to the split shape I’m knitting it in.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment