Welcome to.
.
.
Soothe quietly.
I'm so glad you are here tonight.
Find a comfortable position.
N Let your body settle gently beneath you.
Relax your shoulders.
Release any tension in your jaw.
Soften the muscles around your eyes and brow.
Take a slow breath in through your nose.
And breathe out through your mouth.
With each steady breath.
The sounds of your day.
Begin to fade quietly.
Into the background.
There is nowhere else you need to be denied.
Now let yourself drift softly into tonight's story.
Tonight.
We step softly back.
Nihali 1300 years into Chang'an.
At the height of the Tang Dynasty.
It is a clear,
Fit mandate.
Inside the imperial palace.
In the inner garment courtyard.
We sama-san.
Falls on the warm stone.
The senior gunman keeper.
Has come.
For the yearly airing of store robes.
A practice.
One's door garments are opened to the summer sun.
Keeping the silk dry and helping protect it from insects.
A junior attendant,
Waits at the storage room door.
The senior garment keeper.
Nods to the waiting attendants.
N.
Steps inside the storage room.
The air is noticeably cooler than the sunlit courtyard outside.
She opens the Sita storage chest.
Inside the summer robe.
Lies in careful thoughts.
On top.
Is a pale yellow robe of light silk.
Will burn.
So finely that it becomes translucent.
One held towards the light.
In the dim storage room.
It appears a soft solid yellow.
Outdoors,
Beneath the full sun.
The fabric will glow.
A narrow tally slip.
Lies beside the chest.
Listing the contents.
In neat handwriting.
Yellow gauze row.
Pale green cord row.
White inner layer.
Wash blue summer row.
The garment keeper reads down the list.
Before removing the first piece.
Beside the tally slip.
Lies.
A small record tag.
Tied with cord.
Noting when the chest was last opened and checked.
She lift the pale yellow robe and carries it.
Into the cordia.
While the junior attendant follows with a long bamboo pole.
Together.
They spread the rope.
Across the airing frame.
Arranging the sleeves.
So that The silk hangs freely in the sun.
The pale yellow fabric.
Brightens in the daylight.
The open Siddha chest.
Give the cordia.
Is sent.
Dry wool.
All folded cloth.
And a faint storage fragrance.
Left from careful keeping.
It waits in the shaded doorway.
N reaches the courtyard.
Only one the A move.
Today.
The robes are left to light.
Warmth and dry air.
In winter,
Dyscordia holds the scent of cedar and cold stone.
Today.
It holds warm air.
Sunlight.
And seal.
The pale green row.
Is hung.
On the second pole.
Beside the first.
Two silks.
In the courtyard now.
Hey,
Old yellow.
Peel green.
The color of Alissama.
The talk is methodical.
Each row.
Follows the same order.
Lift it from the chest.
Check the claw.
And Hang it in the sun.
The poles fill one by one.
Along the sunny side of the courtyard.
Where the robes will receive them.
Full summer sunlight.
That you need to attend in.
Set each one in place.
And security.
Without being told.
They have done this together before.
Each rope is given enough space that Sleeve does not touch sleeve.
Along the wall.
A row of small shadows.
Forms beneath their hanging hands.
Bind the time.
Six robes hang in the courtyard.
The empty stone courtyard space has changed.
The fabrics rest at different heights.
They are soft faces.
Catching the light.
From slightly different angles.
Some hung steel.
Others.
Responds to the faint movement of the air above the stones.
The light summer silk.
Moves differently.
From the heavier robes worn in colder months.
It has little way to resist the A.
A sleeve lifts lightly.
Then settles again.
She paused between ropes and looks across the cordia.
Pale yellow.
Pale green.
White.
Wash blue.
Soft pink.
Light passes through each one.
Some have patterned borders.
At the hems and curve.
Giving them a little more weight.
Than the plain summer robes.
She lets each one.
Hang from her hands.
Before placing it.
Feeling.
Where the close wants to fall.
If an edge pulls too sharply,
She eased the sleeve.
Until the fabric can rest without strain.
A dark rose robe.
Comes from the In A Mood story shelf.
With a second layer of fine gold beneath it.
She takes extra care.
Arranging it on the pole.
Settling the clothes.
So,
Neither Lea.
Catches beneath the other.
On the pole.
The Dog Rose Robe.
Catch as the sun.
It's two Leas.
And start the warm air differently.
1.
.
.
Moving just after the other.
As if sunlight itself.
Has passed between them.
She watches for a moment.
Before going back to the chest.
At the storage room door.
The junior attendant,
Check the tailing slip and brings the next bundle.
The senior garment keeper nods once.
There is no need to speak between them.
Each step.
Follows the last.
Without discussion.
N Both of them know.
Where the next colour belongs to.
Lye silk.
In the open A.
Has a particular sound.
Not a fool whisperer of.
Heavy winter silk.
When one layer slides against another,
With way.
Samasvogu.
Barely sounds at all.
In the cordia.
One is more breath of air.
Moves around this heart wall.
The hanging robes.
Make the faintest whisper.
A sieve.
The sound belongs more to the A.
Then to the close.
She has walked with silk long enough that She does not need to touch it.
To know its weight and weave.
She can read the fabric from a short distance.
The way it hangs.
The way it catches the light.
The small sound O.
Nia's Highlands it makes when the A moves through it.
Far beyond the courtyard walls.
E.
T.
Paw touches the rim of a water jar.
Then falls quiet.
The pale yellow row.
At the end of the row.
Makes no sound at all.
It simply holds the light.
The junior attendant has gone inside for the next pose.
The cordia is Briefly quiet.
From the covered walkway.
Comes the soft sound of sandals on stone.
Then the sound pauses on.
No one.
Enters the cordia.
The senior keeper remains where she is.
Watching the roll of silk and Narrow shadows below the hands.
A swallow crosses above the wall.
Too quick to disturb anything.
And disappears beneath the palace eaves.
The scent from open chest has thinned too.
Almost nothing.
She catches it.
Only one the eighth tense.
Then,
It fades again.
For a moment.
Even the open cedar chest seemed to rest.
The silk on the poles.
The sun.
The warm smell of stones.
The last robes are hanged beneath the clear summer sun.
The shadow of the North Walkway.
Has drawn back.
Across the paving stones.
Along the south-facing wall.
The rose of silk stand in full light.
Each row,
Given enough space.
For the warm air.
To move around it.
She walks slowly along the road.
Check in each piece.
If a sleeve has folded beneath its own way.
She straightened it by hand.
She touches the silk only when needed.
Find summer clothes.
Crease easily.
At the far end.
The first robes have already been hanging for some time.
She lifts the hem of the pale yellow robe.
And feels the silk between her fingers.
Warm and dry.
She let it fall back into place.
There is no need to take it down yet.
The robes will remain on the poles while the sun is high.
Allowing the warmth and moving it.
To reach every form.
One by one.
The sharp creases from storage.
Begin to soften.
The clothes loosen slowly.
Settling more easily over the poles.
The paving stones are warm beneath her feet.
Above them.
The robes hang almost still.
Moving only a little air passes through the courtyard.
For now.
There is nothing more to do.
But Let the sun walk.
The Sita Chess.
Stand open in the shade of the storage room.
Now and then.
The air carries a faint trace of wood and stowed fragrance towards the row.
Before it fades into the warmth.
She stands for a while without moving.
The robes.
Hang lightly.
In the warm air.
Pale yellow.
He'll agree.
White.
Soft blue.
Rose.
Warm air rises from the paving stones and moves gently between the rows.
The bamboo poles.
Stand steady.
In their stone supports.
Along the south wall.
The seal.
Holds the sunlight.
The junior attendant,
Waves in the shade.
Beside the open chest.
Later.
Before evening.
The robes will return to storage.
Each one will be folded along its all lines.
Each colour.
Will be placed into the Siddha chest.
Until the next summer airing.
For now.
They belong to the sun.
The senior keeper.
Lifts the tailing slip once more.
And checks the row by size.
Every robe is still in its place.
Some hang perfectly still.
Others,
Move at the hem.
When the A pauses through.
The junior attendant watched from the shade.
Learning that.
Some work is done by careful hands,
And some.
.
.
Simply by waiting.
The summer's still close.
Rest on the poles.
Beneath the summer sun.
The world we visited tonight grows quiet now.
N.
You can simply rest here.
Comfortable and at ease.
Your mind can relax.
Your body can soften.
If you are already drifting into sleep.
Allow yourself to sink a little deeper.
If you are still awake.
Listen to the quiet.
There is nothing more to do.
Nowhere else to be.
I'll be here whenever you need another peaceful moment like this.
Bye for now.
Rest gently.
And Sleep well.
Good night.
