When you wander, it's not necessarily because you're lost or because you're looking for something. Sometimes, it's like looking through an old photo album, wandering for the sake of discovering what has been there the whole time, like realizing you and your cousin wore the same yellow party dress, like searching the dusty corners of your being to find the place where your soul calls home.
Free. The wind blows my curly hair back. Free. The birds sing their sweet song. Free. The trees dance in the breeze. Free. The frogs leap into placid water. Free. The air carries the sent of peace. Free.
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