The garment which is sewn by means of only the strongest threads is made with too much rigidity. The framework becomes weakened by stressors at its male and female intersections. The garments must be mended with threads one, six, and one again, then eight in its golden mean. Motionless as I hold the nautilus shell thimble; it’s difficult to realize I am the garments creator, dressing the world as I see fit in nature. Now the garment is strengthened in a sequence Fibonacci; somewhere between softness and strength are mathematical properties. The fabric mingles together in balance, a ratio never unfinished, like sleeping in the finest silk sheets, a love affair undiminished. There is musical swaying in the materials as they meet, along Universal collaborations, where men and women greet.
By Michaelson Williams
