It comes sometimes, unbidden, as color spreads across the canvas - not quite memory, not quite dream. A warmth seeps into your bones, a softness without weight, a quiet without end. You know this place… or believe you do. Perhaps you’ve only brushed it in sleep, yet its longing lingers long after you wake. In the waking world, you chase its echoes - light, stillness, a touch older than time. They remind you of home…a home you can reach only when the veil loosens. You have not forgotten it… but sometimes , you wonder if it has not forgotten you.