This sculptural handbag carries the feeling of a temporary shelter resting silently before sunrise. Its elongated form recalls nomadic tents, folded travel bundles, and objects shaped by movement across forgotten landscapes. Layers of smoky grey wool and burnt rust tones resemble ash, dust, and fading embers, traces left behind after the caravan has gone.
The visible hand stitching is not only structural but emotional. Each stitch becomes a slow act of repair, repetition, and remembrance. While sewing, I often think about how the hands can quiet the mind through rhythm and touch. The healing weight of stitching lies in this gentle persistence, pulling fragments together, holding softness under tension, and transforming memory into form.
Rooted in my childhood memories near Persepolis and the mountain village of Shool, the piece reflects my ongoing exploration of homesickness, protection, and survival through textile sculpture. Wool remembers pressure long after the hands are gone. In this work, stitching becomes both wound and healing, a fragile architecture carrying warmth through darkness toward dawn.