Dancing from room to room, you blessed every corner, every piece of furniture had your expansive glance.
Generosity radiating from each object, spilling out the windows.
Now, a turning inward.
Contraction to small spaces, microfibers, art-making. Hardly room to turn. Yet, turning is all.
Inside the spinning, carrying you far from those earlier homes. Tearing, matting and compressing -- your journey written on the dappled pages you've formed, through many new hands.
Home still visible in every crease.
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