How could she not surrender to her heart's true desire? The shining sun and the cool breeze invited her to do what she secretely wanted. So she sat and she wrote.
She wrote of foreign lands and the place she calls home. She wrote of love and pain and anger and time. She created stories and people in her mind, her imagination taking control of her working hands. But more than anything, she wrote of the people she met in the place she went.
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