“I saw your embroideries and your weaving in the loom chamber this morning. They are both very fine,” I tell her with a smile. “Thank you, yo... are kind. I had a good teacher.” “Your mother perhaps?” She hesitates and gives me a sad look for an instant. “Yes, my mother taught me to embroider but in the skills of the loom, it was the woman who mostly brought me up, my nurse.” I step closer to her, she does not react. I can feel her emotion but it is mellow and calm. “Tell me. My fingers must have trembled when I brushed my hair out and tightly braided it into a long single braid down my back. I know I felt as giddy as a child in a candy store as I smoothed out the sheet on my bed and went to the closet for the old shoe box that had gathered dust for years. I will never forget the smell of the old dusty leather as I parted the soft wrapping inside of the box and pulled out my collar. It had lain for so long, and yet had been crafted so finely that the leather was. More

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