Aidan has made an earring. He doesn’t know why. He never plans his pieces; they just emerge, formed from an interior blueprint. It is the way Jim felt when totems sprang to life beneath his fingers. It is what Neil understands when he is elbow deep in dough. Who knows where inspiration is born? Is it a muse that visits or a fire within? Is it an idea in the head, or a longing in the heart? It is unsought but vital, a striving to live on, a wish for continuance, an act of faith in a faithless world.