"The wound is the place where the light enters you."  —  Rumi “I had… well, a kind of collapse. A mental collapse.” The words came quietly, without shame — the kind of honesty that only arrives once the storm has passed. She sat on a bench in Kew Gardens, bathed in late-afternoon sun. Around her, the first crisp leaves of autumn brushed against the ground. Her hair, white as light, shimmered in the soft air, and her skin seemed to hold the glow of peace reclaimed. She told me