The Girl. The Woman. Is safe.
No matter how it looks.
She makes her way out of your hunting ground. She will.
Tiny her feet, but smaller still these shoes.
Tiny her body, but too tight these clothes.
Not a great height, but the sky still too close to her head.
Tiny her heart, but these lands are too small, too small place for the beat in her chest.
So, she must go. She will go. She has to.
Look at that triumph.
Lost, no map, some light, beheld in her heart.
In this way, she is to find.
GoodLuck.
anais
picture: www.hedislimane.com/diary