So I was on the Green Line, heading home after a much-needed happy hour, flopped wearily into my seat, yawning after only two martinis, when I saw perhaps the most fascinating thing I’ve seen in a long time.
A man was making yarn with a hand spindle.
He had a very elegant way about him, sitting calmly, dropping the spindle while pulling the lavender-colored wool and twisting it into an ever more fine and thin string.
I’ve seen people knit on the Metro, but handspinning? I don’t think I’ve ever seen that outside of visiting a “living history village” as a small child. After he got on and pulled out the spindle, conversations just stopped as all the inhabitants of the car one by one were drawn into watching him.
An artisan quietly at work, in the middle of chaos, with the whirling spindle, an artifact of another time. Hypnotic.
This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs