My mother used to weave carpets out of used clothes when I was a boy. Her loom was on the other side of my bedroom wall and I've grown up with her work, in fact she often woke me up, which was particularly annoying Sunday mornings. She sold her work to people who ordered carpets from her. They gave her used clothes, she sorted them and cut them up into ribbons that she later sowed together into long, 1,5 cm wide bands that she winded up on her shuttles and sorted into colors that was going to be the finishes carpet.  

I've kept quite a few of her carpets. They don't really fit into modern homes anymore so I don't use all of them. Some only in winter when the floors are cold, some in the hallway most of the year to keep the floor from being too dirty.

A couple of actor-friends is putting on a play called Odysseus and Penelope about what happened after he finally came home, twenty years after the Trojan wars had ended. What questions were asked? Was it easy for the two to choose each other again? Were they the same people? While waiting for him Penelope has been weaving and unraveling, refusing her suitors to ask for her hand until her weaving is done. 

For this play they needed lots of handmade carpets, some of them being my mothers work. Finally her carpets made it to the stage where they received applause for being the beautiful work of a woman with a strong conviction. In the blip you see the two actors thanking for the applause. To the left of him, where the blue string ends, you see one of my mothers carpets made some fifty years ago.

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