S  p  a  c  e  .

I said make some space. I need space. How much?

Enough. You'll know.

At first my sense of space was colorless.

Then I thought maybe there were two ways to look at looking at the pattern. The blackness of the old deep indigo became just as colorless as a choice.  Space. Light or dark. Both?  And then one becoming another. Which pattern am I holding? The thing or the "not thing"? They hold each other she says to herself.  Is holding an option, a choice, a wish?  Or is holding a revelation?

Meanwhile... in a lighter moment...

...an entire village formed around a single tree. And all seemed OK.