A Fabric of Paper or a Fabric of Metal? In memory, images, words, moments, and events reside. In my memory, delicate tales lie, as fragile as paper yet as impactful as metal. They flicker at times and disappear at others, leaving behind nothing but the whisper of words and a mark with a red thread. Our memories intertwine and are woven with beautiful moments filled with love and safety, and the time we spend together. Our identity grows through the stories we've lived and remembered, remaining in memory like a sign or a symbol.For instance, the color red is associated in memory with a symbol of love and longing between lovers. But with our teachers, especially my grandmother, the sewing teacher, it was associated with distinguishing between right and wrong. My grandmother, the sewing teacher for the women and girls of the neighborhood in Al-Balad, Jeddah, lived in a time when sewing was one of the most important skills a girl could learn. I was among them, not to learn sewing, but to listen to her captivating stories that she would tell during the lessons and sewing sessions. She had a habit: any sewing mistake was to be undone and corrected with a red thread. Whenever I made a mistake in sewing, she would make me and the others redo it with a red thread. And with every redo and every red thread threaded into the needle, there would be a new story. The strange thing is that, despite never learning to sew, I still remember her stories and the red thread.