My search for a well of inspiration leads me further east of my eastern home.
As the blue hour descends upon Sofia, there the sun begins to rise.
Artisans toil in their workshops, each day another step on their road towards perfection. Mixing the beeswax with pine tree resin, they knead and stretch this material to allow delicate strips to unfold across the surface. The most beautiful they cast in silver. The rest is returned to the primordial orb of raw matter.
It is this orb from which I extract my own threads and ribbons. I roll and wind them up again in spirals, knots and symbols of infinity, all subtly similar and yet distinct from one another.
Тhe stripes upon the surface would remind one of the rippled sands of a zen garden, a silent invitation to observe and reflect.