DENSE

These fabrics had homes before this one.

A drape that hung in someone's window for a decade. A tablecloth spread out, then folded away and forgotten. A remnant left in a sewing closet, bought for a project that never happened. A jacket worn until it was worn out or perhaps just out. A pillow covering, soft from years of use, set aside when the room was redone.

None of it was recycled. None of it was repurposed. It was gathered, each piece carrying its first life inside it, still holding color, still holding shape, still holding whatever it witnessed before it landed here.

A discarded thing is not a finished thing.

It's only a thing between journeys.

This one is ready for its next.