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Misato Nakamoto
Memories of knitting, passed down from my mother, taking on a modern silhouette.
Thoughts cease; there is only the encounter with the thread.
A world of delicate knitting, where form is born from every single stitch,
and each loop captures a space of inner silence.
As a child, my eyes followed the rhythm of my mother's hands, and the art of knitting became a part of me.
It is more than just a craft.
It is the echo of an ancient dialogue, stretching a thread of connection across time.
My hands move in a steady rhythm, and my consciousness becomes clear.
Out of the silence of "nothingness"—like a whispered prayer—forms begin to weave themselves.
They bring a quiet peace to your everyday life and a soft touch of soul to soul.
Collection
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