Most days the knitting is a kind of meditative break in my day – it takes a little over half an hour and has its own rhythm. (The time has got a bit longer as the yarn has got harder to work – I have to redo a stitch every so often when the yarn's got split, and unravelling takes a bit longer because the yarn gets caught.)
I'm guessing that part of the reason for the interesting curling and twisting that's happening is not just that the yarn is stretched, but also that it's gradually incorporating sweat and grease from my fingers, and probably some dirt – a couple of times I've done the knitting on the train, or in a coffee bar if I'm meeting someone. This is part of the point of the piece for me – it contains its history, even though it keeps being unmade and remade.
