Lisa Horton Zimmerman | Issue 212">
I’ve logged more experience than most with simplicity and the complexity you discover inside simplicity, minimalism and asocial behavior, endurance and landscape.
Here is the truth: I think some deep wisdom inside me (a) sensed the stress, (b) was terrified for me, and (c) gave me something new and hard to focus on in order to prevent me from lapsing into a despair coma — and also to keep me from having a jelly jar of wine in my hand.
Subscribe and Save up to 55%
So simple but it’s taking me all day to move the black silk fabric under the little foot of the machine, my son sweeping in and out of the room in his red socks, asking again if I’m done with it, if it’s finished yet and I am already exhausted by the dark folds in my lap, the needle piercing the cloth over and over, the cloth giving in to the tiny black stitches following endlessly one after another, the day loosening itself around the house, my boy is so pleased when the cape is finally tied around his neck, how he runs in and out of each room, leaping from beds, the couch, the chairs, shouting for me to watch how it flies behind him so black and shiny, so real.
Lisa Zimmerman