It’s interesting to think about the detail in things. The way they came to be, or how they’ve been used throughout time. With what I see, this thing is used so much while remaining itself. Used without the feeling of regret or sorrow. It patiently sits, humble and still, only making the slightest whispers and taps with an occasional squeak. It has the power to say so much and have a great impact, while at the same time not saying a word. It often becomes lost or broken, as it is mistreated throughout every day, tossed around and borrowed. Due to the power of what it has to say, it has to have the ability to take back what it says. We will never know if the words taken back would have been encouraging or life-changing. All we know is that those words disappear into little strands that are tossed onto the floor, never to be seen again.
cooked up by vision+voice
