"For she feared she'd fly away without the weight in her feet."

This quote, which is it considered so if only I, myself, say it to myself?- is something I've had in my mind for the past few weeks. The way I think of myself sometimes. As a dreamer, a thinker, a wisher... A girl who is only being held down by the mere fact that she is not weightless... because there is substance to her soul... a heaviness to her heart- acquired only, simply because she is a true living being who has witnessed the grey of life.

A girl who, if weightless, if thin as the skin of a balloon- as feathered as a bird- as chemical as helium; would just float away.

Softly.

Quietly.

Graceful.

She wears a thin film of clouds as shoulder pads and armor of air.

Winged in a way you've never seen a creature before.

...and yet her heart is soft.

An almost-invisible existence.

Gentile, but a will- built like the baobab tree. Swelling, strong, and full.