Thoughts on a visit to my brother in the north-west, near our ancestral home.
We crossed the island, this island of ours, left our mountains and our sea. Crossed the island to this best-loved mountain and a sea of another, wilder kind.
In The Gamesmaster's House we dwelt for a time, retrieving those familial bonds,
the ones we sometimes lose sight of.
And we measured out our time, aware of the limit of the falling sands that all too soon would be gone and we would wend our way home once more.
I felt the wildness that stirs under the edge of this land, it burrowed under my skin. The deep echo under the mountains that holds some part of me from before I was born.
The need to bring my children here, it guides my hand as I show them they are here too.
Do you know your place? You feel it like a heartbeat under your hand.
Look. Press your palm there. Do you feel it?