A Tear in the Mountain

PROLOGUE

I had no control over what happened. To make sense of it, I came to think of myself as the warp that held everything together, invisibly. Events wove through me and over me, beads threaded over strings of time. In silence, I observed, taut and always dependable. I had no sense of purpose or pattern or beauty, despite the endless intersection of births and deaths. People loved and hated, cities flourished as forests died, then, cities fell and forests prospered. Meanwhile, the fabric around me got tattered and thinner. Colours faded. I could not stay hidden. As the world broke I was left exposed. It’s good that you can see me now; before I too fade, as all things must, why don’t you take my hand? Loop your fingers around mine, let me show you what’s left. Perhaps you can help me repair the fabric of my world. Come, I can show you the loom and thread, there’s a pattern, it lies next to the loom. Perhaps, it’s a beautiful story.