The un-making of an object, the de-”materializing” of it, reducing it to its simplest element: the thread. The thread that was spun so painstakingly, that was woven with perfect spacing, then dyed, not once but multiple times. I am moving back wards in time, trying, not to suspend time, but to reduce something back to its essential form. Trying to find my thread and then letting go of my thread, so that I am not led by it. The thread of grief has misdirected me and while I want to cling to a path, a thread, it has not served me well so I must now discard it. But not until I have unmade it, dematerialized it, reduced it to its simplest element.