She picks her way. Stepping over the brambles, between spider's webs. The untidy path twists beneath her feet.
The branches pull away and she finds herself with a clear view. A rolling asparagus-green hill, crowded by brocolli. Sunlight leaks through, softening the curved road that disappears behind white gums. She stills, drinking in the sight.
The gaps are filled by the quiet hum of life emmanating from the ground, the air. From those flying, their wings catching the light. Her feet are sinking slightly, into the ground. Look -you can see the air sinking into her skin, the rough breeze catching her.
She swallows the lump that has gathered in her throat. It hurries back, transforming into a laugh, loud and true.
She laughs because if this were a film, the outside world would mirror her feelings, not mock them. The lazy crooning of insects does nothing to ease the turmoil inside her. The sunlight should be rain.
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