Examine Shawl
The Shawl is delicate and fractal, formally imposing yet playful. In it, trigons become tetragons and tetragons cascade into heptagons. It is, even in your perfectionist opinion, perfect. Not perfect in that nothing else could be better than it. But perfect in that it itself could not be better than it is. It the best thing you have ever made. You drape it over yourself just to have its gentle weight on you, to feel the texture of its loose yet precise knots and strands on your arms.
Something you don’t entirely understand possessed your hands during the weeks you worked on this Shawl. Not something outside of you, necessarily, but something you were not familiar with and that you do not control. At this moment your deepest wish is that you can summon it back.
As you remove your Precious Headphones, you hear your sister Fen calling from the Corridor.