Purchased a yard of patterned silk in the garment district. Brought it to the studio to sew a set of pillow cases. Its woodgrain pattern in violet, green and white was difficult to pair with other colors. Looked about for a fabric to use as a border. Nothing worked well. Then found a small scrap of olive green silk that was nearly perfect. There was enough for one border. For the other border used a different fabric. (They are fraternal twins.)
Many sounds [one might more accurately write "noises"] in Brooklyn: sirens, incessant car horns, construction. (If a car horn were as loud inside the honking car as outside would it be used as liberally?) Am longing to write, work and sleep where nature's sounds are unmasked by the city's loud rumblings. Until then, an urban consolation: to slumber with one's head upon a soft silk pillowcase--grassy green, orchid purple.