She used to be one to detest things or love them with incomparable wrath or passion. She was the whirlwind that didn't just catch your breath but swept you off your feet. She was the very air you breathed, the beating of your heart. Tut tut tut tut tut, not the unnoticeable one of peace, but of the heady rush after you have spun yourself into a delirious moment of pleasure.
She was all that and so much more...
But time.. Time has a way of rubbing at your edges until the sharpness is rounded, the bite is lost, the carvings are smoothened out, until what once cut and made you bleed, now let you slip by, unnoticed, without a passing thought to its name.
And so, she lay down, and let others step over her, some lightly, some quite determined to make her wince, but the worst, unknowingly, with no notice to the immeasurable vastness that lay at their feet.
Then one day, came a little curious finger that traced all over her smooth once-edges. A little nose that pressed against her cool surface until it made quite sure she was there. And then the persistent questioning began, where are you? Until she was forced to raise a tired head and show herself. Here she was. But the little voice would have none of it. It commanded full attention, complete presence, absolute commitment to be present. To be there.
And so she became, once more, everything.
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