I crochet because it allows me to hold time in my hands. Each stitch is a small, deliberate act, a rhythm that stretches seconds into hours, and hours into days. In this repetition, I find space to reflect on memory, emotion, and impermanence. Crochet is both familiar and transformative: it begins as a single thread, fragile and yielding, and through sustained attention becomes form, tension, and presence. It mirrors the human experience—how we carry joy, grief, and resilience in ways that are simultaneously soft and structured, enduring and fleeting. My work asks questions that I cannot always answer: What does it mean to let go? How do we value what cannot be owned? How do we remember what is no longer physically present? By removing the physical works from circulation and creating single digital Echoes, I invite viewers to engage with the work as a lived encounter rather than an object of possession. Absence becomes a presence, and impermanence becomes something to be felt, not explained. Slowness is essential. It is through patient repetition that meaning accrues, and the labour of making—its quiet endurance, its traces of care and fatigue—becomes part of the work’s voice. My process is meditative, intimate, and unhurried, offering a counterpoint to a world that prizes speed, visibility, and accumulation. I hope viewers approach the work with attention and openness, allowing the textures, rhythms, and gestures embedded in each piece to speak directly to them. Each encounter is unique, fleeting, and unrepeatable. My practice exists in the tension between presence and absence, material and memory, inviting reflection on how we experience, value, and carry what cannot be possessed.