About gradual disappearance – art exhibition about dementia

"I am a whim of nature, and my forgetfulness is winter."
Don't think about it. Crochet memories. Crochet my memories. Which memories do I think I will keep, which memories do I not want to lose, will they remain memories at all? When crocheting, I follow my stream of thoughts and fragments; when I try to remain consistent, I lose the thread. Nothing "wearable" or recognisable to others emerges. I can no longer understand the memento I have crocheted; I have lost the context. This is how fragments are created – chain stitch structures, inscrutable, gloomy, cheerful, lost? A little bit of everything. I can play with it.