Fine grit clung
Fine grit clung to the gloves despite repeated brushing, revealing constellations of fragmented tiles in faded ochre and indigo. The mosaic felt less designed than cultivated—layers built over time, each piece catching light with subtle shifts that suggested forms were never fixed. Examining individual segments revealed patterns repeating at wildly different scales, like worlds nested within worlds; decisions appeared to echo across vast distances. A quiet warmth rose from the stone as a single pathway’s end beckoned just beyond reach.