A brightly-colored kite strung to a bundle of yarn. Her destiny delicately spinning in the hands of the unknown. Fragile.
Evening breeze. Falling shadows. Dusk.
The mischievous wind meanders… and ever so tenderly cajoles the restless kite to rise and set sail with him.
Waveringly, the kite dares to take a step, a leap… to fly, to let go, to feel the wisps of freedom within her reach.
The wind woos her on, as she tugs at her strings and soars into the orange-tinged expanse of the sky above, reveling in the sublime rays of the melting sun. Transcendence.
Weaving dreams, the delightfully-colored kite strikingly contrasts against the subtly-painted sky and in total abandon dances to the rhythm of the wind. Surrender.
The wind and the kite romance their way up higher and higher to a peak of almost no return… into the depths of sweet nothingness – only to be wrenched, torn apart and sprung back to reality, back to grounded earth. Fallen.
If only no strings were attached. If.