They left the southern territory on Friday morning.
His mother had finished the draft of the expressive intake methodology the night before — seven pages, the same length as the corrective version, the same precise handwriting. She had set it on Asta's table before dawn without ceremony.
Asta had been awake.
She read it while his mother packed.
When his mother came to the door to leave, Asta looked up from the pages.
"This is the foundation," Asta said.
"It's a description," his mother said. "Of what I did."
"That's what foundations are," Asta said.
His mother looked at her.
At the school.
At the students beginning to arrive for the morning session.
At Brae in the courtyard already running the expressive architecture at its ambient level, the development of the people arriving becoming visible in the between-space's quality of the space.
At the fifty-year-old farmer who had come back for a fourth day.
