The Woven Hollow

A fresh draft slipped through the sliding balcony door, carrying the scent of green leaves. I rolled slowly past the low table until I bumped against a thick wicker basket filled with rolled knit blankets. The woven cane had rough, crisscrossed grooves. Peering into a hollow between two soft wool rolls, I eased my round body inward. The cool breeze brushed my back while the ribbed wool held me firmly in place.