Ah, how I love you Amory. You flow, you are lacey, you are comfy, you can be worn to so many places in so many ways. But Amory, why are your sleeves so long?
I feel I have failed you by not accounting for the stretch over time that Moda Vera Soya is wont to have. Please forgive me, it was an error of ignorance, for you were lovingly laboured at during the very beginnings of my serious meta-knitting days and I was young to the intricacies of yarn substitution.
Fear not, my darling, though I may have let you down, there is hope for our future together! Your cuffs were knitted separately and they can therefore be removed and reattached to a shortened sleeve. I promise I will be gentle, my sweet, as I tenderly unravel your rows, holding aside the reclaimed yarn for further escapades
Do you recall, my love, the fateful day that changed our relationship forever? You were pristine white, pale and pure. I gently bathed you and set you aside ready to be laid out in the sun. But alas and alack! My thoughtlessness was my downfall, for immediately afterwards I washed a green linen vest for the first time and placed it on you. It’s colours ran, forever staining your natural plant fibre a strikingly glassy hue.
Though I lamented in private, I comforted you, promising that I would not resort to bleach for your fibres were too delicate to risk such harsh treatment. Prolonged internal debate resulted in a cold black dye bath, bringing you to your current marbled hue. My treasure, I feel deeply and intensely that you have only grown more beautiful with this change in your appearance, and that the experience has only increased the depth of our affection.
Au revoir my love, my heart, my Amory.