Free-spirited and joyous, a little girl plays on a hill. She’s only 5 yet her driver’s license says she’s 24. For every spin she only gets dizzier and dizzier – Spinning into a revolving high. She falls over only to be greeted by strange… micro-creatures. Her mini-computer calls them “ants”…
She says hello but they’re in the state of working. “Okay, another time then”
She continues to dance in the warmth of the sun with every bare step landing on a pillow of satisfaction and toes tickled by grass, heart tickled by a lost sense of youth. A regeneration of which the inner-child is now the child. She flows displaying dances steps in staccato as the strings slowly sway in adagio with her hips: Poetry in motion. No sense of society’s rules, no care for anything or anyone around her. What makes a girl smile so honestly? What makes her swerve and scream with such passion; such light-heartedness?
The strings now roar with her. She is in her own crescendo as the fields of Austria look on. Her laughs can be heard from her chest to the farmers of mainland japan. She’s only a girl. No father. No mother. Just a girl with a dog in the car. The aforementioned dog jumps out to annoy(love) with his companion. She runs and runs, laughing and hollering. They circle each other to only tumble down together. What a life! Sun, air, grass and dog.
What a strange little girl.
I’d never seen someone scream out a symphony like this. The vibrations shattered through glass windows of local stores, shaking tampons off shelves and ripping bras off shelves. It was a sign that she was free. Free of being a “woman”. To be free was to be a child, a girl. Free to be whoever she wanted to be. Not empowered by lipstick but by imagination and nonchalance. What a marvelous child she was.