Corchurus olitorius stems waving in the wind, growing fast to have a second life after being a jute plant.
It’s growing up to be long.
Its bark split into fibres, then spun into thread, a yarn.
The rope maker finds exactly the right ones, twists them into a rope with great care; tension, twists weighed and felt.
And then… rope life starts.
You find the ones that speak to you. Feels like something that could make you feel good. Get it through your hands, wrapping it around your “subject”.
At first it needs something… some time… maybe some effort.
Wrap after wrap molds your rope into being yours. Smoothens it, silkens it. It wants to please you, just as you want it to bring pleasure to the one being tied.
With each time it caresses skin and sends shivers down ones spine, it is charged with your energy.
It IS your rope.
It has finally come alive again! It caresses, pleases, hard or soft, just as you like it to. Tightens the limbs, releases the soul.
So many times you’ll use it. And take care of it afterwards, because you want it to stay with you.
So many great moments you have shared and you’re planning on so many more.
But as with all things alive, time is a determining factor. When the lay of the twists is getting longer, the strands untighten, you feel life flowing from it and fraying becomes visible, you know there is going to be an end to your relationship.
“Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow.”
But not with this one. Maybe a new rope will enter your life…
Say goodbye to that one that gave you all the good times.
Somewhere it’ll fade into nature again… and so the cycle restarts.