A treasure of perfume surrounds me.
I'm poised to fill little thimbles with happiness essence: the smaller than fingertips whimsical toys, all doors making way for the memories' entrance.
Believe or not, call truth or doubt, to me that’s all ok.
My soles wore out the silver dust along the winding way.
I’m making ways, I’m dreaming dreams, I cast all qualms aside
While I’m still here, while I breathe air, while I am lived by life.
Have you ever drifted into an experience so foreign you lack the means to communicate it and all the rules you relied upon to guide your life become useless?
Don't you listen to the trolls, sweetheart, don't you listen when they tells you what you must be, what you can't do, what you don't know.
Who do you think you are? it says.
Who do you think you are, to speak?
Who do you think you are?