The bows in your hair, reminiscent of a little girl's innocence, evoke a sense of purity within you. 

Frolic in the field forever, but not too long you grow a distaste for fields. 

Look into the fisheye mirror, reflections shoot back bringing a glimpse of you as a child. 

You yearn to rewind time and write what will happen in her current journal filled with gratitude, love, and now cherished memories. As your mind wanders on what you will do to protect her, the wind hits and the endless sondering begins. 

You walk out of the elevator into the gray hall, stone on the bottom, exposed pipes when you look up, you observe your footsteps echoing through the endless corridors and examine each moving with their own distinct purpose.

You'll begin to feel as a specter, drifting through the vents, stalking yourself. Why am I out of my body? Where have I disappeared to?

From above you catch sight of a man, immersed in his own world, the strains of his treasured songs enveloping him. The wires create a peculiar silhouette up against his rather dark sweater. You're seeing a solitary figure lost in the rhythm of his own thoughts.

The realization that everyone possesses their unique essence, self & soul overwhelms you.

You touch your pink bows in your pigtails. Look up, and you're back.

Back in the archaic hallway, back to yourself.