Rug

What’s the oldest thing you own that you still use daily?

The oldest thing I own is an elephant floor rug—more than just a piece of fabric, it holds a piece of my journey. I remember carefully knitting the strings, one by one, driven by nothing more than the curiosity to see how it would turn out. In the shop, it looked so easy when others did it. Their hands moved smoothly, effortlessly. But when I tried, it wasn’t easy at all.

I struggled. Each square felt like a small mountain to climb. That’s when I noticed something—every pattern I was creating came down to tiny pixel-like boxes, much like how a computer builds an image from zeros and ones. It amazed me. With patience and persistence, I joined those stubborn square strings together, slowly forming an image, guided only by the instructions in front of me.

Even now, I admire that rug. I was filled with excitement while making it, despite the difficulty. It was one of the first things I truly created with my hands—and my heart. And though time has passed, and now it lies by the door as a simple mat to wipe my feet, since 2007, it still means the world to me. Not because it’s perfect, but because it’s mine. My creation. My memory woven into every thread.