Question for Khorshid

So you wonder as you sit, carving steaks from your thighs to feed the Simorgh: Where did it all go wrong?
Sure, you rode the black ox in your haste, and of all the six directions, you went in the one that took you furthest from home. But was that such a bad thing? Aren’t you on your way home now?
Come to think of it, doesn’t that mean you’re already home? or is home not where you left it?

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