SHE EXUDED COLOR, AN AURA of a nearly physical, luminous light that enveloped her from top to bottom and all around.

“So you know weaves and looms and can design fabric with your eyes closed.” Turner buckled the flap of his briefcase and squared his shoulders. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Terribly, if you can think of something terrible as good. I was fortunate to learn from a master.”

“A master?” He almost laughed. “Masters don’t exist anymore. They lived long ago in golden ages.”

“Oh! But they do exist, hidden in pockets here and there, like forgotten dinosaurs, extinguished softly by our blindness, quietly receding into valleys of forgetfulness.”