In the past, in the village, there was a wool lullaby who would sit on her porch, making the stitches dance between her fingers, knit one, purl one, purl one, knit one, as if she were weaving little pieces of happiness. Sonia Fleury, that was her name, and it wasn’t an ordinary thing to see her there, perched on her slightly creaky chair, but one that rocked her just enough to soothe the memories of a hard blow she had received in 2018.

That’s how it was, with a ball of yarn and two needles, that she decided to free her mind. Each stitch, each yarn over, was her way of turning the page, of letting go of what weighed on her heart. The whole village knew it: there was something magical in the rhythm of her knitting. It was as if, with every row she finished, she sent a little bit of softness and comfort into the wind.

And in 2020, she founded Wool Lullabies. Oh, it wasn’t just a simple business, no. They were lullabies, like woolen hugs to wrap around the world. She said that every hat, every scarf, was her way of knitting the world a little softer, a little warmer.

So, on freezing cold nights, you’d see the women of the village sit down, each in her own home or sometimes all together in the church hall, the click of needles blending with the tick of old clocks. They knitted away, and people said that Sonia’s hands guided every thread, like a silent song wrapping itself around the heart of the village.

That’s how they were born, the wool lullabies.