a cachmere story

On an October day, a veiled light, as sleepy as winter days, bounces off two mirrors of soft, warm fiber. A butter–skinned girl comes forward, playing cover-up in the autumn light. Between clumps of dry reeds and damp, cool meadows, the blanket and the girl become one, like a bud waiting for spring.

A wooden shuttle runs "back and forth" along an ancient loom. Today, a soft carded cashmere throw takes its shape on this noisy and trembling machine, where weavers move slowly in a timeless surroundings, acting like sailors on a warship. Some of them takes care about the tension of the warp while someone else sets the gears and the clutches of the inside mechanism; some looks after all the weaving team, searching for any solution to solve the tens of problems that come and go everyday, in order to have its duty well done at the end of the day. The yarn cones are lined up, to deliver their precious contents to the small spool waiting to be boarded on the next shuttle.
Images courtesy of Giulia Coluccello.