Fringe

I used the blue yarn to physically tie myself to memories because I was curious about the movement it would dictate. Sometimes it directs, sometimes it inhibits, sometimes it supports, sometimes it strangles. Eventually, like so many things that I make an attempt to remember, it loses its anchor and becomes simply part of my clothing, simply ornamentation. It raises questions for me about the necessity to frequently remember and re-attach the string in order for the string to continue to support and guide. The necessity to detach from certain memories is also apparent in order to move freely, but at what point does this desire for freedom and detachment yield no support, no direction, no anchor? Are we capable of truly remembering? Or, like the Israelites of the old testament, will we always forget, despite the fringe on our clothing.