Fresh, cold wind rushes around my bare heels and swirls up across my body, whipping my hair out behind me as I stare out into the red sunset. With each gust of wind another trouble seems to blow away from my shoulders and I float, insignificant yet important in the vast landscape I have found myself in.

Sunrise, I had awoken with a heavy head, heart and back, and dragging my lead laden body to a new trouble just seemed too much like self righteous sorrow; an angsty teenager in a woman’s body, moaning to work just to moan at home, and cry over a glass of ruby red.

I have no idea where this place is, and I like that; I like that I can see for miles and miles and never know which way is North, or where the nearest Costa is, or have to pick up at the incessant ringing.

It is the choices that make us, but I feel like mine are erasing; that I could start afresh in the fresh, cold air that envelops me like a cocoon. Any minute my wings will spread and I can take off into that sunset of red.