Pulling at yarn, my fingers take over from my head and it gets a little easier to see patterns, to hear rhythm. I forget to count sometimes and then I get lost, like a beginner in dance, losing her way among the steps. There's a metaphor in that, but I suspect it's a little obvious. It's about finding your own way, your own rhythm, the one you can't lose. So I'll tell my stories, and then the cards can fall as they may. Be still my beating heart, be calm my worrying mind, for I will make things alright.
no subject
*chinhands*