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digital illustration by amy leonard |
Sitting on trains looking out of windows at the rain is
enough for me. We talk about unravelling, like when a yarn becomes disentangled
and unwoven from its piece, or when a life frays about the seams. But what
about ravelling? Winding up like a thread onto a spool? Like working lace into
a knot?
In the dark the train makes slow
progress. And I think everyone can see that I’m wound up tight, knot-like. Though,
I’ve spent so long travelling I’ve started untravelling. It’s like the
curiosity that makes the cat roam, they plot a new map and they never come
home.