Kashmir, India: and a crewel tale of book making

Dear Friends,

I've missed you.  I feel like I've been away for, well, forever.  But books are special things, you see. They are filled with words that have to make sense page after page together.  Oh my. 

It reminded me of when I was in Kashmir, watching the crewel workers.  They were quiet when they worked.  No raucous music.  No chatting.  No outbursts or demands. Because the stitches counted. They had to pay attention.  They had to watch where the needle went in and where it came out.  They didn't want to make mistakes because they wanted it to be just right. 

I want that, too. 

I think I can learn a thing or two from the crewel workers of Kashmir.  About stitching.  Or perhaps, about writing. 

But for now, my book manuscript is in to my editor.  Thank you for your sweet wishes and support.

Maryam in Marrakech

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