I find myself pulling one thread out of my sweater

Somehow to understand it better

How such a linear line can hold on so much information

Of animals, plants or some sort of chemical formation

Ancient history of twisted yarn

Yet, I am facing a sweater filled with darns

Attempting to hold on to your question

Of how stories and yarns follow a succession

I guess it all starts with beginnings and ends

With central axis and interwoven bends 

It’s never about one single plot

Vertical lines always get caught

In complex systems of horizontal threads 

As in life, we tell stories like collective heads

I’m trying to gather as much as I can 

Building some sort of floor plan

Of others life’s and their stories

Like a photo album of inventories

Next time you ask me to share one story

I will focus on the memories of a body

Of mothers and their peculiar sounds

And the lines that draw common grounds