Without words by making an image. Stitching time, fusing our bodies to a specific environment. In Malmö we will share in a stitching conversations in the Boarding school. Our poetic self is a joint body, we are a translator to words.

The Missing Touch. At a time, a star high above all of the others were overwhelmed by the beauty all around it. It shed a tear, and the teardrop fell straight down and was clear as a crystal. The teardrop had no edges, no sharp points, sides or corners on…