A single thread hung from her sweater unknowingly as she sat and sipped her double vanilla latte. The man walked up and said in her ear, “You have a thing here.” As he reached up to pull it out, she looked up and immediately recognized him, “Sean, I thought I would never see you again!”
Commonly used to repair articles of clothing, stuffed toys, anything requiring fabric. Canbe thin, thick, any colour. Manuevured with the help of a needle, that has a head at the end which allows for easy insert of the thread.
makes bracelets. I need to buy some. The thread that my mom gave to me is nice, but its not the natural kind that makes good bracelets. I think it was meant to be used for needlepoint or sewing clothing back together. Or sewing clothing in the first place. It’s weird to think that someone actually makes clothes. When i think of getting clothes I picture the store in the mall where i bought them. That just show how priviledged we are nowadays. Thread is such a big part of life and we take it for granted. Its not something to be proud of.
every interaction, every breath, every moment weaves a thread from me to what i touch.
every thing is connected.
i can feel everything.
its overwhelming.
i can’t handle it on my own.
A needle and thread. Two simple tools that have the possibility of creating a master piece. It kind of goes against everything humans know. We believe in complexity and superior intelligence to surpass those arounds us. But a needle and thread. There’s something in simplicity.
i’ll thread up the pieces and they will make a pretty little costume for my granddaugher it’s amazing how much time i spent knitting last year and it is such a relaxing thing to do thread amazes me every day i thread the pieces of my life together with knitting, family and
A thread can be the beginning of an adventure. The start to a story. In one there is countless possibilities for the future. Fabrics and seams, tears and rips. Anything is possible.
She wove her life, based on dreams. Each act was a reflex response to the play moving through a nightscape. The threads worked out, iridescent and shifting.
Slumped in his booth, Jensen had pretty much given up on his world. His hold on it or it on him was a tenuous thread that could be snapped by the slightest of provocations. “Brrriinnnngggg!” rang the phone. “Oh Jesus, who in the hell could this be?” thought Jensen as he fumbled to grab the vibrating receiver.
sewing machines and paper airplanes crop circles and thoughts, thread is a line that can take you anywhere and everywhere thread is life and death thread goes one way.
She pulls the thread of thought, and it all comes raveling out, thee thousand memories holding her fragile thoughts together. If she loses him, she loses the single thread that holds her together. She can’t let that happen.
Thread is a type of yarn. It can also be expressed a a thread of comments etc. Thread is also an adjective as in thread the thread through the needle. Thread come in al sorts of colors, as well as a variety of textures, shapes.
Could it be?! Yes!!! Look! There’s something other than stone cold walls and drippy, slimy moss in this Godforsaken maze. A piece of thread that breaks up the lonely and awfully cold monotony. I have found the way out!
This thread of thoughts I’m having is quite convoluted. I’d like to ask you for some help deciphering the seemingly meandering trail this thread of thoughts is taking but I fear you would only become as helplessly lost as I am. For your own safety I insist that you cease all efforts to lead me through this thread of thoughts.
I pulled the thread from the edge of the couch. Pondering what I will confess next. The woman in the chair across from me, pen scratching noisily on the paper, recording my inner most demons. I don’t want to be here but I have to.
a needle pulling thread one two three four five six had a itch and the beast of many which was written in the stars like banana cream pies flying over head when the dead walk in the day time to dance a jig for the living breathing but not so present people of the universe
I was looking to fill my days with something to do and I saw a small “doughnut” of wood on my wife’s dresser. It was used to hold back the curtains in our bedroom. A thought occurred to me as I tried to thread the needle to fix it; I’m getting too old for this kind of activity.
Making your own prom dress involves LOTS of thread, most of which doesn’t usually end up making your dress. Most gets jammed, or unraveled, or stuck where you don’t want it. It’s frustrating, but in the end the dress would be nothing without it.
so this piece of thread is merely just the thread of my undying love for this man i have fallen madly in love with. yet sadly he does not feel the same for me. its very tragic indeed but i cant help care about him this much.
A piece that holds things together, just like love, family, friendship, close to a heart beat.
its the “between”, the grip of hope, the grip of faith, strong.
My life is like a thread. I have many of them which I call my friends and family. Each one is a piece of me that is woven into my life, a blanket. My comfort blanket. I don’t know what I would do without them. Thread.
It’s a dangerous lie to tell other people that they don’t meant anything to you. Because if you think about it, the web that binds each human mind to another is one that runs deep. Through one person to another, you can drag a line from planet to planet, from house to house, from soul to soul. All it takes is to grab a tack and place it on a map. Talk to people. Make ends meet other ends. After each tack you place on this map, follow them through with a piece of thread. Cover your map. Fill your heart. Let people matter.
the thread of my poor scarf keeps unfolding and unfolding and getting caught upon the wooden table the big one next to the kitchen door and try as i may to keep it from getting caught, it’s not use. the scarf, the pretty one from my mom when she went into the little store when she was waitng for anya. it is going away.
I bought the missus thread for Christmas one year. 48 spools of it. Bright, glowing, shiny and that was just her face when she unwrapped the box. She still uses it today and that makes me happy.
My thought process. A continuous thread with lots and lots of knots. I never can seem to untangle it in just the right fashion to make it all straight and pretty. Somehow I don’t even think that the thread is all one piece. Somehow I feel like all of the knots make a sort of picture if I squint my eyes and stand on my head. Kinda like that test at the psychiatrist’s. “Now, tell me what this makes you think of?” Gee, A knotted string, warped beyond all recognition? How the heck am I supposed to make sense of that, please?
I pulled at my shirt. The worn out button was pulling the thread between the fabrics. I feel so itchy, I need a cigarette to calms my nerves. This cup of coffee isn’t helping me.
There was a thread hanging from the sleeve of her sweater. I stuck my hand out and wrapped it around my index finger, pulling lightly, hoping she wouldn’t notice. I pulled the thread and held the cloth down with my thumb and pinky, finally breaking the thread, rolling it into a cloth ball, and letting it drop to the floor. She noticed.
“What exactly are you doing?”
of string! To sew together all the rips and tears I get in jeans. which happens alot unfortunately… I hate it because then I have to buy new cloths. BLAH! I like when cloths are worn in and feel good and old and nice.
a part of a shirt. people will put it through needles when they are sewing something. it is really thin and can be many different colors. it can also be a thread of a blog or something. it may be frustrating sometimes when it is difficult to thread through the needle. i threaded something yesterday when i fixed my dress
Not a thread of hope left. It was such a slim chance anyway . . . what with no eye-witnesses to quiz or even a fingerprint left. Then he found it – a thread, a simple cotton fiber wedged onto a nail. Now there was something to go on – not much, but something. This strand provided a thread of hope that the murderer would be found, apprehended, and pay for his crime.
Threads to connect, to bind, to make, create,
to clothe you, to protect
to fill yourself with connections to other people
“Hey I have that shirt”
A word full of connections.
It shocked me to see the rope breaking just above my fingers. He had assured me of it’s strength, it’s durability, it’s longevity. Looking past the swiftly shredding threads, I saw him. He was crouched on one of many jutting rocks impossible to reach without climbing as I did now; but he had no rope, nor did he have a harness. He just perched on that rock, smirking at me as my doom approached. As the final thread broke, he said one thing to me. “Should have known not to believe a man in a top hat, little boy.”
a thread online or maybe a bit of thread hanging off of clothing, reminds me of when I was little I wanted to be able to sew and embroider so I tried to teach mysef and then gave up on it because I couldn’t find anything easy enough.
A single thread hung from her sweater unknowingly as she sat and sipped her double vanilla latte. The man walked up and said in her ear, “You have a thing here.” As he reached up to pull it out, she looked up and immediately recognized him, “Sean, I thought I would never see you again!”
Commonly used to repair articles of clothing, stuffed toys, anything requiring fabric. Canbe thin, thick, any colour. Manuevured with the help of a needle, that has a head at the end which allows for easy insert of the thread.
makes bracelets. I need to buy some. The thread that my mom gave to me is nice, but its not the natural kind that makes good bracelets. I think it was meant to be used for needlepoint or sewing clothing back together. Or sewing clothing in the first place. It’s weird to think that someone actually makes clothes. When i think of getting clothes I picture the store in the mall where i bought them. That just show how priviledged we are nowadays. Thread is such a big part of life and we take it for granted. Its not something to be proud of.
every interaction, every breath, every moment weaves a thread from me to what i touch.
every thing is connected.
i can feel everything.
its overwhelming.
i can’t handle it on my own.
A needle and thread. Two simple tools that have the possibility of creating a master piece. It kind of goes against everything humans know. We believe in complexity and superior intelligence to surpass those arounds us. But a needle and thread. There’s something in simplicity.
i’ll thread up the pieces and they will make a pretty little costume for my granddaugher it’s amazing how much time i spent knitting last year and it is such a relaxing thing to do thread amazes me every day i thread the pieces of my life together with knitting, family and
A thread can be the beginning of an adventure. The start to a story. In one there is countless possibilities for the future. Fabrics and seams, tears and rips. Anything is possible.
She wove her life, based on dreams. Each act was a reflex response to the play moving through a nightscape. The threads worked out, iridescent and shifting.
Slumped in his booth, Jensen had pretty much given up on his world. His hold on it or it on him was a tenuous thread that could be snapped by the slightest of provocations. “Brrriinnnngggg!” rang the phone. “Oh Jesus, who in the hell could this be?” thought Jensen as he fumbled to grab the vibrating receiver.
Our lives entangle one another. There is a thread that connects us, invisible though it may be, I feel it.
sewing machines and paper airplanes crop circles and thoughts, thread is a line that can take you anywhere and everywhere thread is life and death thread goes one way.
She pulls the thread of thought, and it all comes raveling out, thee thousand memories holding her fragile thoughts together. If she loses him, she loses the single thread that holds her together. She can’t let that happen.
thread is the best thing ever, without it, we wouldn’t have all the magnificent clothing and fashion out there.
Thread is a type of yarn. It can also be expressed a a thread of comments etc. Thread is also an adjective as in thread the thread through the needle. Thread come in al sorts of colors, as well as a variety of textures, shapes.
String, link, our connection to all that is…
Could it be?! Yes!!! Look! There’s something other than stone cold walls and drippy, slimy moss in this Godforsaken maze. A piece of thread that breaks up the lonely and awfully cold monotony. I have found the way out!
This thread of thoughts I’m having is quite convoluted. I’d like to ask you for some help deciphering the seemingly meandering trail this thread of thoughts is taking but I fear you would only become as helplessly lost as I am. For your own safety I insist that you cease all efforts to lead me through this thread of thoughts.
exactly what popped to my mind….a piece of thread. a picture of thread spiraling up and down and all around. only red and blue thread though!
is a long piece of string. it is thin. you can tie things with it. hard to untie.
I pulled the thread from the edge of the couch. Pondering what I will confess next. The woman in the chair across from me, pen scratching noisily on the paper, recording my inner most demons. I don’t want to be here but I have to.
a needle pulling thread one two three four five six had a itch and the beast of many which was written in the stars like banana cream pies flying over head when the dead walk in the day time to dance a jig for the living breathing but not so present people of the universe
I was looking to fill my days with something to do and I saw a small “doughnut” of wood on my wife’s dresser. It was used to hold back the curtains in our bedroom. A thought occurred to me as I tried to thread the needle to fix it; I’m getting too old for this kind of activity.
Making your own prom dress involves LOTS of thread, most of which doesn’t usually end up making your dress. Most gets jammed, or unraveled, or stuck where you don’t want it. It’s frustrating, but in the end the dress would be nothing without it.
so this piece of thread is merely just the thread of my undying love for this man i have fallen madly in love with. yet sadly he does not feel the same for me. its very tragic indeed but i cant help care about him this much.
A piece that holds things together, just like love, family, friendship, close to a heart beat.
its the “between”, the grip of hope, the grip of faith, strong.
My life is like a thread. I have many of them which I call my friends and family. Each one is a piece of me that is woven into my life, a blanket. My comfort blanket. I don’t know what I would do without them. Thread.
It’s a dangerous lie to tell other people that they don’t meant anything to you. Because if you think about it, the web that binds each human mind to another is one that runs deep. Through one person to another, you can drag a line from planet to planet, from house to house, from soul to soul. All it takes is to grab a tack and place it on a map. Talk to people. Make ends meet other ends. After each tack you place on this map, follow them through with a piece of thread. Cover your map. Fill your heart. Let people matter.
thread
like string
it holds us together
like glue
but less messy
thread
constant connections
strong in numbers
can be weak on it’s own
thread
the thread of my poor scarf keeps unfolding and unfolding and getting caught upon the wooden table the big one next to the kitchen door and try as i may to keep it from getting caught, it’s not use. the scarf, the pretty one from my mom when she went into the little store when she was waitng for anya. it is going away.
I bought the missus thread for Christmas one year. 48 spools of it. Bright, glowing, shiny and that was just her face when she unwrapped the box. She still uses it today and that makes me happy.
My thought process. A continuous thread with lots and lots of knots. I never can seem to untangle it in just the right fashion to make it all straight and pretty. Somehow I don’t even think that the thread is all one piece. Somehow I feel like all of the knots make a sort of picture if I squint my eyes and stand on my head. Kinda like that test at the psychiatrist’s. “Now, tell me what this makes you think of?” Gee, A knotted string, warped beyond all recognition? How the heck am I supposed to make sense of that, please?
I pulled at my shirt. The worn out button was pulling the thread between the fabrics. I feel so itchy, I need a cigarette to calms my nerves. This cup of coffee isn’t helping me.
There was a thread hanging from the sleeve of her sweater. I stuck my hand out and wrapped it around my index finger, pulling lightly, hoping she wouldn’t notice. I pulled the thread and held the cloth down with my thumb and pinky, finally breaking the thread, rolling it into a cloth ball, and letting it drop to the floor. She noticed.
“What exactly are you doing?”
of string! To sew together all the rips and tears I get in jeans. which happens alot unfortunately… I hate it because then I have to buy new cloths. BLAH! I like when cloths are worn in and feel good and old and nice.
a part of a shirt. people will put it through needles when they are sewing something. it is really thin and can be many different colors. it can also be a thread of a blog or something. it may be frustrating sometimes when it is difficult to thread through the needle. i threaded something yesterday when i fixed my dress
The threads of fate are there for us to weave a beautiful blanket for us to live with.
Not a thread of hope left. It was such a slim chance anyway . . . what with no eye-witnesses to quiz or even a fingerprint left. Then he found it – a thread, a simple cotton fiber wedged onto a nail. Now there was something to go on – not much, but something. This strand provided a thread of hope that the murderer would be found, apprehended, and pay for his crime.
Threads to connect, to bind, to make, create,
to clothe you, to protect
to fill yourself with connections to other people
“Hey I have that shirt”
A word full of connections.
It shocked me to see the rope breaking just above my fingers. He had assured me of it’s strength, it’s durability, it’s longevity. Looking past the swiftly shredding threads, I saw him. He was crouched on one of many jutting rocks impossible to reach without climbing as I did now; but he had no rope, nor did he have a harness. He just perched on that rock, smirking at me as my doom approached. As the final thread broke, he said one thing to me. “Should have known not to believe a man in a top hat, little boy.”
a thread online or maybe a bit of thread hanging off of clothing, reminds me of when I was little I wanted to be able to sew and embroider so I tried to teach mysef and then gave up on it because I couldn’t find anything easy enough.