‘Is it a male or female?’ ‘Maybe a bit of both’. The part of the face we can see is eye-closed, peaceful. Unwilling at first. Mind elsewhere, somewhere else to – someone to – thing to – and yet don’t talk to me. Leave me alone. Stuffing dreams into cloth. Sitting in a small circle of women. A circle of no focus. There is no point. Push the stuffing right down, tight pack the cloud. It has to stand upright, firm. In me, there’s a melting. That wasn’t the intention. We didn’t know what was needed and it happened anyway. Words bubble and telescope around as the little body becomes firmer, plumper, more ready to stand. She asks me how, about my writing. My passion! She has heard pull of that thread at my heart and wants to investigate it. Tenderly she pulls that thread. ‘Passion is not always a joy’, she tells me. The guardian of the dolls! ‘It’s in the word’. I have placed my heart, it is big and in the right place. The point of the needle finds its place, pulls this stitch, and the next, and another. It was a big area needing completion- but not a problem! No! Our journey. Special scar. Thank you Regina x.’
‘I sat meditating. Part of me knows that I’m still at D&D in Bristol. I know I have my hand on my right wrist, feeling my heartbeat. My right thumb is placed on the heart of the doll I have helped to make. It’s in my palm. I hold it. And right now I’m held inside D&D. Within my meditation I hear talk about community, about a larger connection to the world, about a reason. I also hold a reason, a connection and a community now in my hand – you have made me part of a community with this doll, but also you’ve let me make a community. Thank you.’
