Dusty leather, tooled or scarred one strike at a time, and tumbleweed-like intricate lace are the tactile representation of my deepest spirit. Interestingly, there are few who know how to properly employ either. Widely admired, but rarely utilized to their fullest capacity, these fabrics are workhorses, able to both labor and elaborate.
Dirt, brush, bare structure, parched space - these elements meet and speak a language I wholly understand. One, it seems, many discount.
I do not see the bare as dismal, the unfrequented as cheerless. Rather it is in the desolate I find my counterpart.