I was so delighted by Mima’s idea of The Wanderers. And I’m so delighted by filigree. And especially, stories. Eager, I thought I might be among the first hosts of the Ancient piece. It was decided that it took a different route. It travelled. It wandered. It witnessed. It was lost. It was recreated. A year later, I was told to expect it. It had made the whole circle. And then… Almost a month passed by, it did not arrive. Reminders and check-ons… Nada. Nada?! Oh no. It did not get this far and this long and with much ado… expected, not to write another story. It was a unique experience in itself to be located in the post office. But it was. It was a kind reminder that sometimes we need to take things in our hands. And here it is. Writing a story. Coming home.