This is my friend T. modelling wristies made from left-over yarn from my "dead boyfriend" sweater. Not that I made a sweater for the boyfriend who left me, but that I made a sweater to commemorate the event, in the depth of depression, in the cry-baby sobbing staring ahead knittting knitting month that followed his departure. My friend is an L.A. babe, and they look so posh on her. I had originally been making them as my Dickensian scribbler gloves for the cold offices I was working out of. Now the job is shaky, the wristies look better on T., it's spring and I'm hopeful, and I'm going to make another pair in my best most vibrant colourways for next fall. ... if I have a job ...assuming global warming doesn't kill next winter... See! The black thing doesn't work on me... I go art school dead poet maudlin in five seconds. Back to colour.