
I always thought of "normal" thinking as straight up to neatly branching, like an oak, whereas "poetic" thought is more like weeds, sprouting up in the strangest places and really not taking any notice of whether they're supposed to be there or not. But flapping works too -- there is effort involved, and some direction, but that little effort opens the way to almost limitless destinations. And the warp and woof meet in some of the most bizarre patterns... but I can't imagine weaving sack cloth, can you?

Ellen works in an old mill where you can really appreciate warping and wefting.
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- stephan