Martyn Rhisiart Jones and Lila de Alba

Oza-Cesuras, Europe 17th December 2025

When Yarn Learned to Speak

The soldiers never noticed her.

She sat where women had always sat. She was by the window and by the road. She was near the iron veins of the railway. Her hands were busy, her gaze soft. The love was in her eyes. The slow music of needles clicked and clacked like rain on Bethesda slate. In Wales, they would have called it cynefin, the comfort of the known. In Galicia, the way things have always been done. Magical, mysterious and mindful

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