According to an ancient Japanese legend, there is an invisible red thread that connects people. The poems of The Red Thread continue and unravel the calligraphic line of some of those threads, written in red ink, they are also a thread of blood, the blood of thought. Little stories, cryptic, surreal. Dark while bright, they are difficult to place in the mood. They fray in the filaments of a cruel and capricious destiny, the way we meet.