Why textiles?

Textile

noun
plural noun: textiles
  1. 1.a type of cloth or woven fabric.
    “a fascinating range of pottery, jewelry, and textiles”
    synonyms: fabric, cloth, material

Italic bookmarks are different from any ordinary bookmark. These bookmarks are made out of various textiles for many important reasons. Here are a few reasons why woven fabrics are the best:

Weight and Strength – textiles are strong, resilient, and long-lasting. They are the only materials suitable for many specialized applications that require extreme strength and durability. They are much lighter than other materials like dense plastic or heavy metals. The structure and substance of textiles can be modified to fit their intent.

History and Significance – they have been around longer than paper, and most other materials. They have supported and covered people from every ancient civilization. They are an important part of past and present cultures around the world.

Style – they have specific design and creativity in their structure and patterns. There is infinite possibility in their designs, patterns, textures and variations. Textiles can be plain and functional, or artistic and extravagant… or both.

Italic bookmarks are intended not only to enhance your reading experience, but also to enhance your individuality and style!

 

Bricks

Bricks

Image result for red brick sidewalk

“About thirty years…” I think to myself. I am sitting in a small park in a fashionable town 20 miles north of Chicago. It’s a nice day. The grass is green, the sun is out, and there is a steady but gentle breeze. The sun makes me glad I am outside; the breeze makes me appreciate the light jacket that I brought along with me.

Its lunchtime and the people around me are divided between the warm and the cold. The café that I walked past a few minutes ago looked near capacity inside, but there were three or four tables of diners outside on the patio. They defiantly browsed their menus, enjoying the sun and refusing to be confined indoors for lunch any longer.Continue reading “Bricks”

green – Read this at a Park

Green

(please read this at a park)

There are hundreds, if not thousands of shades of green, but there are two basic “types” of green: There are greens found in plants, leaves, grass, and living things; and then there are the various hues and shades that we assign to things that are manufactured, produced, or painted.  The “organic green” has a specific quality and energy that is unique to living things. The “artificial green” is simply a mixture of chemicals engineered to reflect the particular portion of the visible spectrum between yellow and blue (ROYGBIV).Continue reading “green – Read this at a Park”

Galumphing

Bill sat in the dirt and stared at the ring in his hand. It was a beautiful wedding ring he had purchased over a year ago, but there it was in his hand instead of on the finger it was intended for. He once felt like his life was poised at the edge of perfection: he had money, he was good-looking and in great shape, he found a great girl. He had not ever considered that it could all change so drastically for him in just one year. Bill lost the girl, who apparently had never considered him to be “husband material.” Her response to his proposal sounded something like,“I won’t spend the rest of my life with a car salesman”. He lost most of his money when he started spending more time in his bed hungover than he did at his job. He had paid three thousand dollars for the ring, and refused to consider selling it for less than two. He was never offered more than a thousand, so he kept it. He stood up. He was on the bank of the lake where they spent so many weekends together. “I don’t even like the outdoors!” she had screamed during their last fight. He dropped the ring in the water. It didn’t deserve a place in the middle of the crystal blue lake, it belonged in the shallow muddy water on the banks.Continue reading “Galumphing”

Serial

SERIAL
Can a compulsion be considered a motive? I have no other reason to explain why I do what I do. It starts as a feeling before it even becomes a conscious thought. The feeling grows effortlessly into an idea. When I realize the idea has been formed, I resist it. I try to forget about it. I try to distract myself. I try to focus on all of the reasons why I should not do what I am thinking of doing. Actively trying to avoid the thought only strengthens it. The idea grows larger and becomes magnetic. It attracts the scraps of other thoughts that come into my head, altering the normal orbit of my consciousness. At this point it is no longer a question of if I will do it, but a countdown to when I will give-in. It is inevitable. I no longer try to resist the urge; instead I put my effort and energy into figuring out how I will make it happen. The internal struggle melts away and is replaced by pure, guilty pleasure. This is the best kind of pleasure. It is sweet and sticky, and raw. Best of all, it is hidden from everyone else. I share it with nobody. I am selfish. Only I know what I am about to do.Continue reading “Serial”

The Spoon

Sharon had never needed to defend herself before. An impending figure rushed toward her, and she found herself in a circumstance that she had never imagined…

As usual everyone else on her shift that night had come up with an excuse to leave early, and she was left to lock up the café alone. She turned the lock on the glass door after the last group of customers left. Then she went quickly back to the kitchen to turn off the lights. She came back into the main dining area and reached for the light switch. She heard a faint shuffle just as she flipped the switch. She turned the lights back on immediately and turned to see a man standing at the far end of the room. There was an immediate, consuming fear like she had never before experienced. After the wave of fear, she thought briefly that maybe the man had forgotten something and had returned. Sharon had an excellent memory. She knew that she had locked the door, and that she had not seen this man with the last of the customers.Continue reading “The Spoon”