The Bottom of things.

Christmas was a time to sink slowly into the silence and peace of my aunt's house. Time to forget the way labels are pasted on from the outside. Underneath surfaces, forgetting the names of things. We woke to ice daggers around the house and a light of sheer breathtaking blue.

Foxes left blue footprints traced around the house. Sky and land swapping colours. Leaves into crystals. Green into blue.

In the silence I knit. And after a week of knitting the green and the world we know returned. Twisting meanings back together. Surfacing. Complete. Renamed.