The woman weaving peeked out from the side of the warp

Woman working with weaving machine — Woman weaving cloth on a loom

As I wandered through the old quarters of Patan, the sound of a loom echoed from a small shed tucked away in a back alley. A low, creaking rhythm filled the space, absorbed by wooden beams and earthen walls. Curious, I stepped closer and peered inside — and there she was, a woman seated behind the loom, each thread stretched in perfect alignment.

When I raised my camera, she looked up briefly, meeting my gaze through the narrow space between the vertical threads. There was no irritation at the interruption, no forced smile. Just a quiet moment — a brief intersection of two lines of sight amid the weaving.

The act of weaving — crossing thread over thread to build a piece of cloth — feels deeply rooted, almost universal. Whether in Thailand, India, or here in Nepal, the looms may vary, but the gesture itself remains shared. Something elemental, something remembered by the hands.

Patan on Google Map

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