“Safiye?” her mentor says, in that gentle voice many people have found comforting and kind. “Look at it this way.” He takes her hands gently, and gestures to the studio around her. “Here you’re given the inspiration of the many carpets I buy and sell, Ayse's guidance and the the support of the entire workshop. You're here because Allah put you here. This is where you belong.

Besides, you’ll never stop growing. Each day, each memory… they will be spun into the threads you weave into your life's tapestry. But you can’t rush it along by worrying! Live!”

Safiye sighs again. It isn’t a heavy sigh this time. It is one of acceptance. Some of what Zeynel said has comforted her, at least, in knowing that he understands the anxiety she is experiencing, even if he isn’t an artist.

“Thanks, Zeynel. It’s just…I can never be sure of the future…”

Before she can finish her sentence, she leaps at the lamb about to make a meal out of her carpet. It runs away in panic, from a panicking young woman, and a worried carpet merchant who feels guilt for almost letting that accident occur.