The Weaver

Once upon a time… Over the rim of his coffee cup he gazes again towards my feet  and says, “I am completely mesmerized by the fabric of your scarf.” I smile and look down to the pashmina loosely tied as usual thru the handle of my rucksack. “It has a story.” “I’m sure it does.” With ripples of pleasure that deepen my crows feet, I tell it. For this is what I do. This is what I love to do. I travel and collect stories. And sometimes I collect a physical thing which is like a beacon that points to the… Read more