She was free in her wildness. She was a wanderess, a drop of free water. She belonged to no man and to no city.
She was a free bird one minute: queen of the world and laughing. The next minute she would be in tears like a porcelain angel, about to teeter, fall and break. She never cried because she was afraid that something would happen; she would cry because she feared something that could render the world more beautiful, would not happen.
The Wanderess
by Roman Payne