Isole surveyed the empty park she saw the swing,rusted and creaky but in her eyes beautiful. She sat down gingerly on its thin rubber seat. The chain jingled softly. Her head filled with memories. She remembered the time in grade 1 when she believed if she swung fast enough she would become the wind. She had gone home sore and dissapinted that day. She had swung so fast and so long, whispering
I am the wind every few seconds yet nothing happened. Isole smiled at her own foolishness. Her smile was half hearted She wished she was a little girl again. To go back to the days where everything was perfect. She started swinging again. At first slow then faster and faster. Soon she was swinging furiously. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
I am the wind she whispered
Reply
