They thought I was a Surrealist, but I wasn’t. I never crocheted dreams. I crocheted my own reality. — after Frida Kahlo
I don’t crochet to represent the world that is outside of me. I crochet to give life to the world inside my head. The fleeting thought — the odd juxtaposition of things that never appear together in life — all of the random bits that make up the world as seen through the windows of my eyes. — crochetbug
