She’s a multitude of colors and shades flowing through your veins, pulsing a rhythm, a beat, that harmonizes your life. A cacophony that surrounds you and releases you bit by bit, allowing you to taste freedom. She steals your breath until you’ve forgotten everything but her stories. A weaver of tales, hopes, forgotten heroes, dreams, and wars made of constellations of life. She gives you jitters like a bad case of coffee, but calms your soul and leads you along until you can feel again. She’s fairydust, silver stars, and fireflies. She’s lavender, cucumbers, and raindrops that leave you feeling fresh and awake after rushing from head to toe. The sweet little music box filled with lullabies and tunes that carry you on a cloud to sleep. She spins an airy web of acoustic, folk, rap, metal, soul, classical, blues, anything she can. Her voice is always disturbing the air, and she’s always twirling along with. Not everyone hears her, not everyone cares.
She’s your inspiration, your imagination, your muse.