I came to a place where I had left an old leather suitcase, which I had once carried for my mother. I saw it lying there, neglected in a corner and imagined that there was great sadness left in it that seemed to have something to do with me.
I leaned down and inspected the tattered leather, which I had slashed with a knife. I saw the damage I had done when I wrenched it open in my desire to find my baby bracelet. I stroked the smooth leather surface, wondering what journeys that case had made, that I could never know about. I was lost for a long time, pondering the mysteries of the case.
Then I saw that the leather was a warm, brown colour and was soft and malleable. I knew at once what to do. I took up my scissors and cut carefully into the leather until I had several pieces lying about my feet.
I spent a long time carefully planning; placing the pieces this way and that, until I knew what I could make. For many hours I worked until my fingers were sore and my eyes ached, until I had made a small rucksack and a pair of moccasins.
I saw the road stretching out ahead of me, inviting me to walk on. I put the sack on my back, placed the moccasins on my feet, and set off, singing.
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