username ;; Anza
name ;; Arachna
gender ;; Female
occupation ;;
You'd think a girl like me couldn't spin the finest of yarn at my spindle or weave the colored threads into the most exquisite of tapestries?
Well I can; making the finest tapestries many have ever laid there eyes upon.
extra;;
I ran my paws over the colorful threads that I had laid out on a quaint wooden table. Colors of forest greens, yellows comparable to the rays of the sun, blues from the depths of the ocean all the way to the colors of a sky, to the shades of blood red colors similar to the shades of fresh pomegranate juice glistened there rays into my eyes. Oh how many wonderful colors there were! No shade was perfect, no shade was the same. Each shade of color had a special look, a special feeling it brought me that went through my paws all the way to the tip of my tail. But I couldn't choose just a color, no, it had to be perfect! It had to be selected properly, then with fine, careful work it would have to be woven into the correct spot on the tapestry where it would belong to the image. Where it would make the image whole, where it would belong without a doubt of anyone who's gazed glanced over my work. The passer-by would have to look at that string and say "Ah! That was the absolutely perfect color the artist could have chosen!"
For I am an artist. Each string woven into the correct spot. Each tiny string making a contribution to the overall image. Quite like us humans, many individuals, many strings: all perfect, all unique, all needed for the tapestry, all contributing to make the tapestry of the Earth whole. For I'm there artist. I choose the string and place it where it belongs. I cannot make a mistake about which string I choose. I have to choose the correct string for the job. With that thought in mind, I reached for the string that made me pause and consider picking it. My paws reached out and brushed the soft length of the dark blue color that could rival the color of a night sky. There. I thought. That one.
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