"One hundred beautiful memories are related to this old sweater, its dry and gray wool smells of mountain, snow, and Fohn winds of fir and pinewood resin from the mountain woods that have been fatigued by sun, fox footprints, breakfasts cheerful and hungry during the walks" (Herman Hesse)
It is easy to weave a sweater with a pair of knitting needles: knitt one, purl one, twist ... but how many emotions can we put in those stitches. Every time we turn a piece of yarn around a knitting needle we tie a thought, a smile, a memory and our sweater ends up becoming a story, a little bit of our life, a picture fixed in an apparent mixture of points.
"The sweater is that thing that children wear when their mothers are cold," declared Guccini, an Italian singer, in an interview, really it's their mothers hug, warm and fragrant hug that accompanies us since childhood.
The sweater is the scent of wool that evokes breathtaking mountain landscapes and meadows and tolling of cowbells. It's our appointment with emotions, the real ones, those that make us in peace with the world.
The sweater is our refuge, it's the hug we are looking for when we need cuddles, it's the joy of a mountain day playing with snow, it's go out with friends on an unexpected Friday of half autumn.
The sweater is my story, started many, many years ago as a game, sitting on the step of a staircase at my grandmother's house with a thread of red wool taken from an old knitted sweater and a pair of golden yellow knitting needle. Knitt one, purl one,cross, yarn over, ops ... a stitch fallen from the knitting needle.
Full of imperfections, but I did it; over the years 'worn out, just like our life, but it is my red sweater.
(My son Marco. If you like to knitt this sweater here there are instructrions 😊 )