Some things happen once and echo for decades. These are the stories of those echoes, and what happened when I finally turned around to face them.
These are the pieces of my story that pass through this color. Some belong here completely. Others touch several prisms at once. Together they reveal one angle of a life that has never fit neatly inside a single story.
My last steps looked almost like dancing. There was no one there to see them. No music was playing in the kitchen. I was simply doing something I had done hundreds of times before, sliding my feet across the cool tile...
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Return to the spectrum and choose another prism, or step into the complete archive and follow the stories wherever they lead.
