For the days you've lost sight of the warmth or the ways your own line passed down to you, carried in you without your noticing.

Warm gold, the colour of a light passed down, around white. It has the warmth of sun on the back of the neck and the smell of warm bread.

What your line gave you can fade from view until you feel self-made and rootless. It returns no one to you — it holds a warm light to see what your own line carried into you, honored in your own way and with respect.