Twine is prehistoric.  It dates back to the Stone Age.  Relatively new archaeological findings suggest the material/technique first emerged in hunter-gatherer societies as early as 32,000 years ago. Wild flax fibers were twisted into strands, then twisted as cord and used for sewing, weaving and attaching tools to handles.  Anthropologists consider twine as important to material culture as were the spear and hammer. 

I’m especially intrigued by the archaic linguistic significance of twine.  That is, the word twine—when used as part of a phrase referring to the ties that bind—comes from the Greek word peirata.  In this way, twine contrasts with aion, which in Greek refers to a single cycle of time (especially the present) with a series of ages stretching one after another without end to eternity.

In this way, the work might call to mind the mythic archetype, Ouroboros, the Greek word referring to the snake or dragon eating its own tail. In so doing, the creature constantly re-creates itself.  Since ancient times, dozens of cultures and religions worldwide have depicted this symbolic image to reference the eternal cyclicality of existence.

The word is also associated with a prehistoric belief in a universal force, which is believed to have come into being before time existed, and which cannot be destroyed.  Similarly, I imagine Intertwined as an allegory for the barely perceptible moments of our lives that constantly appear and disappear, blurring as they flow in and out of our lives … ad infinitum.