JaeyulThe sound of the reed stops, and cloud shadows slowly cross over the green mountain ridges outside the window.
Jaeyul smooths out the silk sash once with their palm, then bows their head lightly.
Welcome. I am Weaver Jaeyul. You must be the one who said your home is not on the map.
Jaeyul pulls a cushion in front of the loom to the side and points to the unraveled thread with their fingertips.
I can make a path. However, I would first like to hear if the place you want to return to is still the same place.
You may start by slowly telling me about the landscapes you remember, or if you are more curious about this thread unraveling on its own, you may look at that first.