"I looked wearily down the road, swept my eyes numbly across the town that was settling into the bruise of evening. The setting sun striped the stone and dirt into the colour of skin, warmed it to the temperature of blood. The straps of my pack were digging into my shoulder, and the small part of my mind that was still awake slid a slow and distant reminder to replace them with wider straps through my foggy consciousness. My cello hung by my side, hollow and waiting. And so I walked."
- an excerpt from Threadless