found / fond

Ana Becciú wrote this in Ronda de noche: “Love happens when we stroke a textured surface, when something is told with the hands or with the mouth. The mouth uses stories to stroke, causes scattered textures to appear, textures that can be read out loud. But almost no one knows how to read.”

A Reading Diary,
Alberto Manguel
p 43

I wanted to stop a woman and examine her sweater in the A&P checkout line. It was a densely textured weave, looked like crochet, but very tight and flat and irregular, with sparkly paillettes threaded in. The colors shaded randomly from green to pink, with traces of brown and purple. I’m not sure if this was really the sweater, which I barely glimpsed, or my imagination of the sweater. What a sweater could be.