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January 11, 2003
A day bathed in sunlight. Or at least, several hours of sunlit enjoyment. Good food, an entertaining novel and the luxurious enjoyment of an artist in the textures and colors of a good yarn shop. It is a fever, a lust that settles deep in the blood that compels me to buy yarn, my head filled with visions of sartorial splendour, the final creation evident from the moment my finger strokes the fibers or my eye the color. Half a lifetime ago in Germany it was the same. This inclination must be inherited; Grandmama did the same thing with cloth.