A sackcloth is a reflection of something that was cozy and homely: or bed linen, or a shirt, or a tablecloth on the table.
But this sackcloth is sewn from the rags that was used to clean the weapons by the soldiers with whom I fought. We tore it to pieces with our hands, indifferently, roughly and brutally, used it and threw it in the trash. We all once accidentally crossed paths during the war, gathered together, together concentratedly cleaned each of our automatic weapons and then everyone went his own way.
A sackcloth sewn together is a metaphor for what is formed between soldiers – brotherhood.
By sewing these rags together, I unite those who used them, those who tore them; I remember those who were nearby.