"The Sari, it is said, was
born on the loom of a fanciful weaver. He dreamt of Woman. The shimmer of her
tears. The drapes of her tumbling hair. The colors of her many moods. The
softness of her touch. All these he wove together. He couldn't stop. He wove for
many yards. And when he was done... the story goes, he sat back and smiled and
smiled and smiled. ?
