the 150 year old words of flaubert filled my head all afternoon. the first part of 'madame bovary' echoed across the studio as i sewed through the afternoon. the tale of her discontent twisting along with the thread and the rumble of the sewing machine. the ennui of a past era pulsing through the room as i worked, as i filled the room with my own story.
i've been concentrating on words alot lately. i've been enjoying the silence and hearing my own words hum through my head. but today it was about listening to others. and breathing life into my newest farmhouse quilt.
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