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500 threads


A Hello Sunday Polaroid of Washing Drying on the Line

She stretches out on the grass and squints into the sun, detects in the glowing white the wears and times of the past week. Sheets and flattened pillow cases waft above her head like sails on a gently swaying ocean. She rides the quiet waves, lulls herself into a rhythm of slow and easy breaths. This is where her dreams take flight from the night and present themselves squarely before the sun, requesting a new day. Crumpled and tossed too many times left, turned too many times right, now they are fresh and new and – really, could it be? – possible again. Crisp and lavender-smelling possible. She allows another minute, for herself really, and stands to remove the sheets while they are warm but still soft, before they are made harsh in the midday sun. She unclasps each peg carefully and lifts it wide from the wire so as not to upset a single one of the 500 threads.

Find out more about this Hello Sunday tale.

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