threads hold things together. I feel like a piece of thread sometimes, as if I am holding the world together between my fingers and toes and I’m prone to break at some point, but when? And when I snap, the reality I have will come loose. I am a piece of thread. hanging off a frayed skirt.
My mother used to tell me the story of the red thread. She told me that it’s invisible to us, but it’s a thread that connects two people. It connects one person to their soul mate and the person may search forever because they can’t see the thread. However, my mother put her own twist on the legend.
a simple thing my grandma uses to make wonderful little slippers that my uncle used to wear. He left them all when he passed and I wish they could be duplicated since they are all i want to wear. His small little feet… I wonder how they fit since my feet are tiny and I cant help but wonder if he only asked for more because she enjoyed making them so much.
this thread of conversation is getting boring. i think we should get more of a train going. a train of thought. trains are interesting. aren’t they? you know what else is interesting? cars. cars and tractors and construction equipment. pretty much all modes of transportation. i once went around in a backhoe. so don’t you go thinking that construction equipment isn’t a mode of transportation.
thoughts come in threads, whether they are stitched into the fabric of our consciousness or left dangling, half-finished, remnants of the most beautiful or the most gruesome of times. what happens when you cut that thread? what happens when the thread ends in a splintered, run-on sentence that makes no sense standing alone?
string, sewing. its what old women do to pass the time. who knows when the thread will run out, and when it does, then what do you do? you are at the end of the thread. hanging by a thread. stringing through life, on nothing but a thread. is thread like yarn? the yarn we use to sew our scarfs? to keep us warm on lonely nights. yes i believe so.
thread. a needle and thread. you string it through, you string it along. i think im like a thread. always getting strung along. maybe im not as good as a thread though. they at least bind things together, i just tear them apart.
dangling on my new dress. why is it there? I must fix it… nothing new should already be unraveling… Much like how my relationship is going. So I need to cut it. the guy too.
She tied loops around her fingers, one by one, day by day. She needed to buy milk, that one was light blue. She needed to call her grandmother, amethyst purple. She needed to find a new pair of blue jeans, that one was bright red.
When I was a child I desperately wanted to learn how to sew. My first lesson was to thread the needle. Threading needles is very difficult. Or at least it is for me. I remember sitting with my Nonnie (my father’s mother) and watching her sew all sorts of pretty things. I dreamed to be like her when I grew up.
life is a thread. connecting me to you. you to her. her to him and all of us to others until the universe has become one long piece of thread. each of us united and yet seperate. i want to be the thread next to yours
yarn olivia …. she paints with flawless features and the needle pulls the thread like a dog gentely galloping behind the leash apainting…. a picutre… a simple and gracious imagination its beautiful and flawless and fearless and something i wish i could have its petite and simple and lovable.
The thread of my life seemed to be coming undone. I didn’t know what I was doing, and i didn’t know where i was going. Not literally, of course. Metaphorically. I was lost in a sense that I had lost myself. Not fun. It was one of the most confusing times of my life so far. And that’s saying something. My life is always confusing. Who am I? I’m me. I’m you. I’m you’re best friend. Your lover. Everyone. We’re all a little confused, aren’t we?
threads come undone so knew ones can be knitted. its not always a bad thing, it just happens, its life. threads fall apart, they unravel, shit happens, yaknooooow?. get over it, start a new thread. start somewhere new in life. get going. now. times wasting.
The same thread, cut from the frayed chord, is lonely; laying all alone in the day. Pieces of pavement, dead leaves, rotten moss surround it. Only the sun warms up its detached feeling. The breeze comes up and the thread gets pushed further into the unknown.
Thread is very similar to yarn. I learned to knit with yarn when I was a freshman in college. My roommate, Kara, taught me and I have loved it ever since. It is great to knit in the winter because its always cold and its always nice to curl up with a blanket, hot cocoa and a ball of yarn.
I love to sew with a needle and thread. There is something satisfying about the feel of the fabric between your hands, the left middle finger delicately sensing where the tip of the needle will nip through the fabric, each time giving your finger a delicate push, not painful, but almost, and the whooshing of the thread and the gentle tug as it meets the resistance of the fabric.
The thread dangled from her dress, a distraction as it hung from the end of her skirt. The skirt flared just above her knee, the thread barely noticeable to someone not paying attention. He was though. He watched it sway with her hips as she walked down the road.
A thread is the beginning of warmth. Woven into an article of clothing, it lingers on the flesh. Inviting smells to cling on to it, make themselves at home.
you are the needle to my thread. you make up so many important things to me in my world. i couldnt live without you and you comfort me. a small nesesity in my life so simplistic making up things so complex and you are a part of all that surrounds me.
there was a loose thread hanging from my coat as a young girl, the coat was blue and future husband tore off the thread and kept it. he put it in a the ring he wed me with. I then gave the ring to my daughter on my death bed, and she wore it on a necklace.
thread makes me think of project runway when all the designers are painstakingly trying to finish their designs. it looks so difficult. incredibly difficult. they become so passionate about it though that they could probably endure any working circumstance just because they love it so much, and i wish i could be that passionate about something.
Thread.
think and long
colourful and bright
Thread is used to make clothes that cover our selfs
With out thread we are naked and can not hid behind colthes
a thread is something that either comes off your clothes or you put on your clothe…sometimes you can be loosing a tooth and say its hanging on by a thread.you can also say im hanging on by a thread.i like threads very much.
a thread holds things together. It can be the tie that binds or a filament that holds clothes together. A thread can feel like th only thing that holds your sanity in place. A thread is all powerful or weak depending on the situation. A thread is necessary to hold everything together. A thread on the internet…a long story about everyone’s opinions.
She lifted the strand to her lips and wet the end between them. It stood ready to wind its way through the needle. When it was done she drew it to double and knotted the end. Ready to sew.
The thread slowly started to unravel as the curtains tore. Cara held on as tight as she could and looked for something else to hold on to, but found nothing. She was going to fall.
connects everything together, but can also be used to divide things, depending on its use. it can be used to create the most beautiful pieces of clothing, and some of the most useful things at home. thread is a wonderful invention, but it should be grown and manufactured sustainably.
one red thread ties all my thoughts of you together. They are scattered. And I miss you. But at the same time. every breath you take towards me. pushes me into the past. into a place i’ll never be again. so the one red thread will become many. the thoughts will separate. and dissolve
Thread is used to mend, to create, to darn a sock, to connect a web. It comes in all colors and for all purposes. My clothing is made of thread, fine sheets too. In other countries, it may only be one thread though, barely holding a community together, barely creating enough clothing.
threads hold things together. I feel like a piece of thread sometimes, as if I am holding the world together between my fingers and toes and I’m prone to break at some point, but when? And when I snap, the reality I have will come loose. I am a piece of thread. hanging off a frayed skirt.
My mother used to tell me the story of the red thread. She told me that it’s invisible to us, but it’s a thread that connects two people. It connects one person to their soul mate and the person may search forever because they can’t see the thread. However, my mother put her own twist on the legend.
a simple thing my grandma uses to make wonderful little slippers that my uncle used to wear. He left them all when he passed and I wish they could be duplicated since they are all i want to wear. His small little feet… I wonder how they fit since my feet are tiny and I cant help but wonder if he only asked for more because she enjoyed making them so much.
this thread of conversation is getting boring. i think we should get more of a train going. a train of thought. trains are interesting. aren’t they? you know what else is interesting? cars. cars and tractors and construction equipment. pretty much all modes of transportation. i once went around in a backhoe. so don’t you go thinking that construction equipment isn’t a mode of transportation.
i thread the needle through the string and sew. Like a bond of love being tied together. Love is connection.
thoughts come in threads, whether they are stitched into the fabric of our consciousness or left dangling, half-finished, remnants of the most beautiful or the most gruesome of times. what happens when you cut that thread? what happens when the thread ends in a splintered, run-on sentence that makes no sense standing alone?
string, sewing. its what old women do to pass the time. who knows when the thread will run out, and when it does, then what do you do? you are at the end of the thread. hanging by a thread. stringing through life, on nothing but a thread. is thread like yarn? the yarn we use to sew our scarfs? to keep us warm on lonely nights. yes i believe so.
thread. a needle and thread. you string it through, you string it along. i think im like a thread. always getting strung along. maybe im not as good as a thread though. they at least bind things together, i just tear them apart.
Thread the needle and create. Create warmth, create security. Let the materiel rest upon the flesh, let the wind whip by, scents collecting on fiber.
dangling on my new dress. why is it there? I must fix it… nothing new should already be unraveling… Much like how my relationship is going. So I need to cut it. the guy too.
string, weaving, a small part of a whole, a fraction, frayed ends, rough edges, old skirts, friendship bracelets, vibrant colors, individual
She tied loops around her fingers, one by one, day by day. She needed to buy milk, that one was light blue. She needed to call her grandmother, amethyst purple. She needed to find a new pair of blue jeans, that one was bright red.
Thread weaves together intricately to create.
When I was a child I desperately wanted to learn how to sew. My first lesson was to thread the needle. Threading needles is very difficult. Or at least it is for me. I remember sitting with my Nonnie (my father’s mother) and watching her sew all sorts of pretty things. I dreamed to be like her when I grew up.
life is a thread. connecting me to you. you to her. her to him and all of us to others until the universe has become one long piece of thread. each of us united and yet seperate. i want to be the thread next to yours
yarn olivia …. she paints with flawless features and the needle pulls the thread like a dog gentely galloping behind the leash apainting…. a picutre… a simple and gracious imagination its beautiful and flawless and fearless and something i wish i could have its petite and simple and lovable.
The thread of my life seemed to be coming undone. I didn’t know what I was doing, and i didn’t know where i was going. Not literally, of course. Metaphorically. I was lost in a sense that I had lost myself. Not fun. It was one of the most confusing times of my life so far. And that’s saying something. My life is always confusing. Who am I? I’m me. I’m you. I’m you’re best friend. Your lover. Everyone. We’re all a little confused, aren’t we?
threads come undone so knew ones can be knitted. its not always a bad thing, it just happens, its life. threads fall apart, they unravel, shit happens, yaknooooow?. get over it, start a new thread. start somewhere new in life. get going. now. times wasting.
you’re woven into my dreams
threaded into my every distant thought
always in the back of my mind
burning like a California wildfire.
The same thread, cut from the frayed chord, is lonely; laying all alone in the day. Pieces of pavement, dead leaves, rotten moss surround it. Only the sun warms up its detached feeling. The breeze comes up and the thread gets pushed further into the unknown.
thread
Thread is very similar to yarn. I learned to knit with yarn when I was a freshman in college. My roommate, Kara, taught me and I have loved it ever since. It is great to knit in the winter because its always cold and its always nice to curl up with a blanket, hot cocoa and a ball of yarn.
I love to sew with a needle and thread. There is something satisfying about the feel of the fabric between your hands, the left middle finger delicately sensing where the tip of the needle will nip through the fabric, each time giving your finger a delicate push, not painful, but almost, and the whooshing of the thread and the gentle tug as it meets the resistance of the fabric.
All the threads I’ve collected in my life have made a jacket only I can wear. Pull at one, and you undo me utterly.
The thread dangled from her dress, a distraction as it hung from the end of her skirt. The skirt flared just above her knee, the thread barely noticeable to someone not paying attention. He was though. He watched it sway with her hips as she walked down the road.
A thread is the beginning of warmth. Woven into an article of clothing, it lingers on the flesh. Inviting smells to cling on to it, make themselves at home.
you are the needle to my thread. you make up so many important things to me in my world. i couldnt live without you and you comfort me. a small nesesity in my life so simplistic making up things so complex and you are a part of all that surrounds me.
there was a loose thread hanging from my coat as a young girl, the coat was blue and future husband tore off the thread and kept it. he put it in a the ring he wed me with. I then gave the ring to my daughter on my death bed, and she wore it on a necklace.
thread makes me think of project runway when all the designers are painstakingly trying to finish their designs. it looks so difficult. incredibly difficult. they become so passionate about it though that they could probably endure any working circumstance just because they love it so much, and i wish i could be that passionate about something.
Thread.
think and long
colourful and bright
Thread is used to make clothes that cover our selfs
With out thread we are naked and can not hid behind colthes
string, spool, needle, internet, bare, blog, wire, head, water
Our lives are being threaded together, like a patch being sewn onto a quilt. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Let the threading continue forever.
a thread is something that either comes off your clothes or you put on your clothe…sometimes you can be loosing a tooth and say its hanging on by a thread.you can also say im hanging on by a thread.i like threads very much.
a thread holds things together. It can be the tie that binds or a filament that holds clothes together. A thread can feel like th only thing that holds your sanity in place. A thread is all powerful or weak depending on the situation. A thread is necessary to hold everything together. A thread on the internet…a long story about everyone’s opinions.
She lifted the strand to her lips and wet the end between them. It stood ready to wind its way through the needle. When it was done she drew it to double and knotted the end. Ready to sew.
The thread slowly started to unravel as the curtains tore. Cara held on as tight as she could and looked for something else to hold on to, but found nothing. She was going to fall.
connects everything together, but can also be used to divide things, depending on its use. it can be used to create the most beautiful pieces of clothing, and some of the most useful things at home. thread is a wonderful invention, but it should be grown and manufactured sustainably.
one red thread ties all my thoughts of you together. They are scattered. And I miss you. But at the same time. every breath you take towards me. pushes me into the past. into a place i’ll never be again. so the one red thread will become many. the thoughts will separate. and dissolve
Time stretched through
From me to you
A single thread
Easily clipped
Erasing all connection
With a single snip
Thread is used to mend, to create, to darn a sock, to connect a web. It comes in all colors and for all purposes. My clothing is made of thread, fine sheets too. In other countries, it may only be one thread though, barely holding a community together, barely creating enough clothing.