The Other Side of the cloth I call Home is still quite raw. The inside of Home. As the details are added to the flying things along the flight path, the embroidery shows gently through. Like little bright spots in the vast chaotic space. Slowly a path is emerging. A way to follow. Threadcrumbs.
A center stone fell into place this morning. A warm one. I have had it in my pocket for a while. I remember it.