Golden Threads

There is a single thread of gold running through this piece, and for two days it was the only thing I painted. Up close it is nothing — a line. From the street it stitches the whole wall together.

People asked what it meant. I told them the truth: I did not know yet. Some threads you follow before you understand them.

By the time it reached the top storey, it had turned into a river, and the figure below had turned to watch it go.