i'm stitching myself down the highway. On my way to Waco to see family. Greyhound, this time!
I spent today in the studio, before heading to the bus station, working on one of a series of fairly small art quilts based on my walk in Spain two summers ago. This is a very different environment than the one that inspired this art, but there's something about the communal nature of a bus ride that reminds me of the Camino de Santiago. It, too, is a place of connection and journey. It, too, has a sense of democracy that we often miss in our little separate capsules of automobile.
Besides providing a nice stretch of time for handwork, I've seen a beautiful sunset tonight that I probably wouldn't have even noticed if I were driving on the madness of Highway 35.
It's dark now, and there's something really mysterious and magical about riding on the bus through the night. The bus is full, mostly workers, and families, old and young, A capsule of chatter and silence, sleepers and and gazers. I think I'm the only stitcher. And that's come to an end, too. It's just a little too dark to thread a needle!