In my mind sometimes I see a place that has many doors. The doors are not doors the way you find them inside a house, they are points of turning. The revolution of petals, the way a flower opens and closes. A turning floor of painted glass, stained glass, a turning wall, the revolving ceiling of a chapel. Inside these halls the doors turn again and
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I put a message for her and for Wolfina up a little bit ago on Dimo's journal, but I don't know if you saw it or not. Up for a knife-throwing lesson with three people, since Wolfina's eager to learn? And since Anthy's a bit of an empath, the enthusiasm of the other two will likely be contagious.
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