I’ve spiralled so deep into the crochet rabbit hole, there’s no returning to any version of a past self that didn’t know how to work a needle. Sometimes I think back to the first flower I made, and the immense sense of accomplishment I felt when I photographed it to share with you, my reader, before I undid it again, because I had only so much thread and couldn’t afford to make anything until I could source more yarn, which was simply not possible during lockdown last year.

When I vacated my apartment, I had to leave behind so many things, and my needle and yarn were among them. When I got to South Tyrol, I asked my partner’s aunt where I could find the material I needed. She looked through her drawers and gifted me her mother’s old 1.25 mm needle, which I have been faithfully using ever since.