In an old white dress, with stains marking pain, she stands in the middle of the asphalt, staring ahead, the sun blazing, the horizon shimmering, the light blinding, the heat hissing, the breeze soothing, her brows furrowed, her distraught eyes squinting.
And then the winds rip through her. Twisting her body along its axis. She grasps at the air for stability, but only taps into her own muscle's strength. She surprises herself. She thought she was doomed to crash. She was wrong.
She no longer looks to the end of the road. She slowly kneels to study the pavement she walks upon. Her journey was not about how far she could see, it was about what she can extract on her changing path.
She was no longer shackled to the hope of a change. She was ready for anything.
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