Thursday, May 6, 2010
For a few years a take small branches with me from walks I make. At home I'll cover them up in a colorful coat. When I knit up the coat I go through al sorts of memories. The colorful sticks just make me happy. People ask to tell about the trip I made when picking up certain sticks but I do not remember which stick comes from which walk. Though the sticks are all there. The one I picked from my parents garden when my mom had just passed away, the one that became mine during a very painful walk/conversation with my girlfriend, the one when I decided to go through operation. Even the one that came from the tree that Anne Frank saw during WOII which she wrote about in her diary.