I love this book. It's one of those rare, trembling, tactile, expressive books that folds into my hand. It has a curious animation, which I sometimes try to stich into the books by removing the stiffening of the spine. It makes for a curious exchange: this physicality of vulnerability and strength. The book is secure, but it gently shifts the weight of itself in your hand, as if, on opening it, an understanding of itself moved too.Further away, or closer. A strange animation, for a book.
I had this book out for sale, for a time, and then I withdrew it, and it now sits in a box in my workshop. It contains broken things, discarded things, all the things that have been destroyed, stitched again, held together by tenous links made by thread and needle.
No man could have made this book. And that is one reason why I like it. This book is a Woman's Book. It permits of no male voice. It is heritage and future, strength and wisdom, breakage and repair. It is my book.
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