selvage (n.) - from self-edge: the woven border of a cloth, made stronger than the body of the fabric, so that the weave can never fray.
The edge that holds the weave.
Fifteen minutes of complete attention, flowing one way. No advice, no fixing, no hurry. A trained container with a clear beginning, a held middle, and a deliberate close.
Everyone here trains in both seats, and chooses freely which to sit in. Some come to be heard. Some come with attention to spare. The cloth needs both.
Your fifteen minutes shows as a single thread crossing a loom. No clock, no countdown - just a thread quietly making its way to the edge. At the selvage, the two of you choose together: tie off, or tie on another thread and keep going.
The loom stops at the edge. That is a promise, not a limit.
The Alkonost, a bird from old Russian legend, cousin of the halcyon. Her song brings the forgetting of trouble. She is drawn here as one continuous thread.
Selvage is being woven slowly and carefully, the way it deserves. Threads begin soon, in a small circle first. Invitations move by hand.