Reader, Pilgrim, Welcome Guest . . .
We are glad you came. Her ink marks are nothing without your magic. You behold them and their sounds echo like our cawing in some other room. You summon a glass green sheen of the waves to your home. You release the scents of crushed rosemary and pocketed bay leaves into the air of a different place.
The maker needs you. Whatever craft she has is a half-thing – it is you that conjures the whole, invites visions from her parcel of earth to yours.
Without you, paths between the worlds sink into bogs, obscured by sedge. Without you, her creatures die flattened in darkness, unheard, lonely. Without you, stories form a heavy sediment in her heart.
Come in. Play in this stacked attic. Every creak of a floorboard says thank you. Take from her work whatever you want, leave what you wish as an offering.
From the Twin Muses, Sense & Imagination