I took another break – if you can call a
few months a short break. But I had to go on a
long walk on unfamiliar roads even if it meant ignoring that gentle yet probing
voice in my head that whispered now and then:
Where are you?
After months of lying idle, after a few
weeks of dabbling here and there, my hands have again picked up needle and
thread, paintbrush and paint.
I guess it’s
true that no matter how far you wander, you will always, always, always come
home.
