I had this in mind. mas tudo pode ser enlaçado com quase tudo, como o stencil e o crochet com bolachas. Portuguese - Turkish - Armenian - Romenian knitting. acrescentar Grécia, Bulgária e Perú. o alfinete português é um sucesso de exportação e não estou a brincar. [comprar!]
(o crochet com bolachas já cá canta, so to speak)
(turkish and anatolian patterns)
"He put on his stockings, then took them off again. He had many stockings. His mother knitted good stockings and embroidered the best patterns. Watching her out the corner of his eye, he went to the chest and opened it. The inside of the chest smelled of wild apple. Memed's eyes lighted up as he found a pair of embroidered stockings that lay tucked away in the corner. His hand trembled as he bent down to take them. The smell of wild apples spread everywhere. As his hand touched the stockings his trembling increased and a flood of warmth went through his heart, a pleasant warmth and softness. In the shadow of the chest the stockings were dark. He pulled them out and took them to the light, where the colours became bright.
If someone sings a folksong at night, it does not sound as in the daytime. If a child sings it or a woman, it also sounds different, or if the singer is young or old, if it is sung in the mountain or in the plain, in the forest or on the sea. Sung in the morning, at midday, in the afternoon, in the evening, each time it is different.
These embroidered stockings were like a folksong, knitted with all the fantasy of a song. The matching and mingling of different colours, yellow and red, blue and orange, all produced warmth and softness, a work of love and compassion.
Traditionally such stockings are an expression of love. Memed's trembling as his hands thouched them, his thrill as he brought them to the light, were fully justified. On such stockings there is always a design of two birds, with their beaks touching as in a kiss. Then there are also two trees, with small trunks, each with a single big flower. The trees stand side by side, their flowers joined as in a kiss. Between the two patterns there flows a milky-white stream with red rocks on its banks. All these colours seemed to dance like flames.
He pulled the stockings on to his legs and put on his sandals over them. The stockings reached to his knees, with their birds and flowers kissing, their white streams flowing.
Within him he felt a great desire to see Hatché. He walked straight towards her house. She was waiting him by the door. As soon as she saw Memed her large bright eyes expressed her hapiness. She was glad to see that he was wearing the stockings that she had made."
Yaşar Kemal em Memed, My Hawk.