My dearest Sister Queens,
Exile is nothing if not tumultuous. (They say for every high high/ there must be a low low low . . .) For me, the highs of my mediation cave/copy room where I have spent the majority of the last month chained up like a maiden from a high fantasy movie from the eighties, laughing with my coworkers who would visit, the tiny revelations that would come from the long hours there. The lows of the same copy room/meditation cave when there were no revelations, just endless fretting, swollen ankles and an aching back.