The colours faded with distance and time, the cliff had been scaled on threads of life; blue chokers of raging silence, silver slices of pain inflicted, golden shreds of arrogance indulged, red blinkers of longing for unimportant things. Once breathing freely on the plateau the colours reached equilibrium with her life. The icy rages were tamed by surprising new opportunities into the lush green of goals. The quick silver of her mind was beaten into iron for every day use. She found glory not in the trophy fleeces of gold but the gentle carding and spinning of her experience into the modest white handkerchiefs and bandages applied to hurts. Most importantly the red ran into the black and was absorbed, the time of longing became one with the time before the longing. The black had reached back, and brought her more than she had sought. The flashing, astonishing years of her travels and her return had so obscured parts of her own essence that when she was finally still and balanced, her...