I think there are a few more stories to tell, though I am sinking ever deeper into the fabirc of Africa. It gets harder to discern what is worthwhile and I am enjoying evermore just being.
I have been adopted however, and that is sure to signal the beginning of adventure- or so I am hoping. The story of my adoption is one of those 'few more stories' left to tell, as is the mystery of my masks- or secret markings, depending upon how you want to look at it.
Yes, I guess I am trying to entice you to return. I might need a weekend before I can do either of those stories good justice but I am brimming with newfound family in dance and overflowing with tenderness for my masks of Congo, who might be suffering some homesickness along with me (on occasion, ever slightly less but always present just under the surface.)
There are possibilities on the horizon, ripe and near fruition - 2016 is already promising so much - but it all still feels too precarious to give words to.
Just a weekend, maybe and I will try to find voice again to share the uncovering of these tales.
