She is the puppeteer to her own life. She kneads the soles of her feet on the tiled ground in comfort. She benefits from walking barefoot across the foyer. Her grip to filthy garbage is easy; she lunges on filth – unsoiled it. Her baffled ignorance is not hindered by her impulsiveness. Daily, she wonders and tries to squeeze out the promise of impossibility. Drowning herself in smoke gives her a calming trance. She stares far away, to no where.
