I spent my morning winding a large skein of deep brown, soft and chunky Welsh wool into balls. Quiet time standing over a skein of yarn, stretched between two chairs, navigating my arm in a circular motion, guiding the wool. Inhaling the comforting lanolin scent.Feeling the warmth of the fibres as the yarn slipped through my fingers was meditative, giving me time to reflect on the tactility of my action and encouraging words to appear and sentences to form in my head. A practice in materiality and thinking and an antidote to the digital day to come.
