She wanders around,
Through the muddy swamps, clawing her legs, weighing down her steps.
Through flower field, but she’s walking inside a glass tunnel, disabling her from savouring touches of beauty. Or is all that real? Not only digital vision?
Towards the sun, as it sets steered away by the dusk, followed by the night as it owns the stage.
All those places, all those views, all those steps she took,
All she’s looking for is a finish line. A fine line which defines where she should go and how long should it take.
Because never before she feels freedom so suffocating.