At dawn, the spinner sits cross-legged, with wooden combs placed in front of her. These sturdy combs, armed with long metallic teeth, resemble musical instruments. But what they harmonize are the wool fibers.
Combing begins. The wool, previously washed and dried, is placed between the comb’s teeth. The artisan spinner grabs the locks, stretches them, and arranges them. She selects the long fibers meant to become warp threads, those that must withstand the tension of the loom.
With a second comb, wedged between her heels, she starts pulling the “ribbon” of wool. This ribbon, long, soft, and slender, is then wound around a spindle. It will become a regular and solid thread, reflecting the craftsmanship of the one who combed it.
There is no sound, except for the steady friction of the fibers and the murmurs of the woman singing softly, an ancient tune that her mother once sang to her. Here again, the space becomes sacred: the wool does not lie. It only submits to the patient hand and loving heart.
