Alice

You’ve admired her from afar...Wondering why she seemed so lost inside her head, in her world she’s painting roses and looking for white rabbits. Everyone around here thinks she has gone mad, falling in love with coward mad hatters,

Talking to caterpillars and cats. 

Her lack of height, her unfairly fair skin, absolutely everything about her screams fragility.

You look into her eyes, deep brown with murky waters of sadness and water swirls of lunacy. 

They unravel you with every analytical stare she gives you.

You will underestimate her until you see the way she dances under storms as if she made love to them. Her resentment becomes one with lighting...

The bolts become even more electrifying and they strike her...

You expect her to not come out alive,

but she did.

And whoever who put her under this storm will have to face the consequences, by then you’ll know she wasn’t injured...

Her vengeful anger became intoxicatingly powerful instead, like poison ivy she grows back and resurrects... 

You’ve never seen anyone dance like that...

Have you?

Full of hysteria and pleasure to be under something that would break anybody...

People die under storms...

Storms are heartbreaks, storms are losses, storms are insidious intentions, storms are failure, storms are traumas.

But she did not, she was daringly flowing along with the storms and they unleashed her wrath...

Wrath always has its place, wrath is a strong source of ambition.

She’s dancing with wrath, almost as if it silently guides the way she moves, as if it had possessed her completely. 

So much flaming anger the water under her feet evaporates whenever she steps on it.

Do you really want to see her aiming that wrath at somebody? What if that somebody is you?

She didn’t perish like you thought she would...

Even I doubted her.

She stopped taming her rage and when all that rage finally surfaced...

She silently let go...

So fast she was not able to remember what guilt felt like.

She danced until the grey clouds disappeared and the sky cleared.

She’s still dancing even though the thunderstorm is over and the sun has kissed her lips...

Except this time you look at her with fascination knowing how much strength was underneath, hugging every curve of her body. The mystery was solved when she stripped off that soaked dress of fragility in front of you 

and you traced every new finding with your hands.

It was even more fascinating and haunting to see the way she smiles after the catastrophe is all over.