She throws sensibility to the wind as she races through the grass. A quick spin and then laughter and she feels alive for the first time in days. As she walks back towards her shoes, she decides that sensibility is a curse and is not to be inflicted on anyone.
She leaves with a promise to buy striped purple leggings and wildly inappropriate shoes.
To wear jewellery simply because she likes it and to buy a whimsical scarf.
To dress in red and yellow and to stop and taste the sunshine.
To write about whatever she takes a fancy to, regardless of whether it’s truthful, and to write often.
These things, she promises herself.