Tic tic toc, no havoc in the morning, tic tic tac, no tarmac in the light, tic tic tic, thick and quick they go, the needles of the knitter, quietly sitting on the blue sofa –the red is mine, my borrowed breakfast nest- tic tic tic hypnotic, pictures from the past, the childhood and the history, there the knitting, each move a new story, a new stitch in a chapter of yarn and creation.
A Fish on a Hill 