Quietly in the Peruvian highlands steeped in tradition there is a whisper of old and a lifetime of slow.
Through the narrow streets of an old town, beyond the children playing, a mother sits in a humble clay hut with pebble flooring, as her ancestors have done before her, using her hands to lovingly make magic. The earthy yarn spun gently as each fibre tells it’s own tale of history and love.
Quietly a mother knits as she wears her baby, weaving the yarns for another mother and her baby. Artisans at work, each piece unique; it’s own worldly treasure. Passing on the traditions of their people, untouched by machinery or the fast pace of life. Softly, can you hear the whisper that each piece has to tell?