I make homebodies— amorphous collections of knots and woven moments of toilet paper and worn denim and clothes line and twine— that limply sway from whiffs of wind and passing bodies. These homebodies, embodiments of disjointed pasts, act as the foundation for muddled recollections to be revealed, for snot, knot memory moments to come together. Through the laborious repetitive acts of tying, I think through how loss and fragmented traumatic memory sit in the body and in my hands.