Born in pairs, yet never twins by fate, I kiss the ground wherever paths await. I hold no voice, yet tell where you’ve been, Through dust, through rain, through worlds unseen.

I’m a tiny room with very big responsibilities. Emergencies happen here, reflections are judged here, and soap is often overused. Please knock. Dignity is fragile.

I curl when you pull me, I bow when you tie me, I dress up a gift. What am I?

A crest in the west, a patron in east. Big and powerful in the west, old and wise in the east. From mythos I am, not real but a tale. What am I?

Oh my stars! Like a woven basket of life's little treasures, this gentle giant keeps your linens snug, yet never offers a single hug. It's the keeper of daily drudges, filled with garments that need the suds.