As straight as a rod, her clothes are eccentric,
paper and airy fabric draw circles that are concentric
One day her hair is red the next it is blue, the wool on her spindle too: a so pink ball when her mood is good, as black as the night when she is not all right.
e patterns she whirls, spins and weaves re ects her way of being.
We see her dancing with elegance even her life “is hanging by a thread”.
Juggling wool balls, her hands criss cross threads with visible and invisible hands, until the beholder in wrapped in a colorful whirl.
She spins dreams, secrets and hidden thoughts, all carefully weaved.
ough they are sewn and perfectly sealed, sometimes in a whisper they are revealed and thoughts and dreams and secrets dri in the air, until they reach ears that are far away
If you want to get a better idea of the performance click on the link below.