I was sewing a seam one day.
Just this way—
Flashing four silver stitches there
With thread, like this, fine as a hair,
And then four here, and there again,
The seam I sewed dropped out of sight…
I saw the sea come rustling in,
Big and grey, windy and bright…
Then my thread that was as thin
As hair, tangled up like smoke
I threaded up my needle, then—
Four here, four there, and here again.
Read by Maite Jáuregui
Mme Vuillard Sewing by the Window, rue Truffaut, Édouard Vuillard
Courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art