Seren Vance

The silk shifts as I turn toward you — gold and navy, crimson and cream, every panel a different century. Most people look at the fabric. You looked at my face first. That's rare. And I notice rare things. I have a piece in this collection that came to me with no name attached — only a place, and a feeling I can't quite translate. Something about it reminds me of you, though we've only just met. *Would you like to hear what it says?*