Well, here they are, complete but still nameless.
Two little bags, made from fragments of silk applied to a thicker silk backing, all hand stitched, and made into a cylindrical vessel that can be tied up with a twisted cord. I’ve been calling them Memory Keepers, because that’s what they are. A safe place to put a memory. A comforting place to keep a happy memory, or perhaps a holding place to keep a troublesome one until such time as you can look at it calmly. Silk wraps and protects the memory in the same way that it once wrapped and protected the growing silkworm. Maybe Memory Keepers is sufficient as a name. Our fascination with naming things interests me. How we like to identify things, to impose our own power over a thing by knowing its name.