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CHAPTER 19 : THREADS BETWEEN US

The new version of Naked Stitch didn’t hum—it pulsed.

Mobile. Nomadic. Elusive. Like art that refused to be captured. Like a woman walking away from fire and refusing to turn back.

Satellite hubs sprang up across West Africa: Ibadan, Accra, Port Harcourt, even as far as Dakar. Each center run by f...