That's so retrograde

The cherry blossom tree looks like a man offering me something with careful hands. The wind has hypnotised it into a swaying, sighing dance and the petals are swirling, spiralling towards the ground like snow. It is Spring, and the weather is wanting. Frigid breezes sweep their way beneath a grey, overcast sky thick with rain clouds; and everything looks dull, as though the world is covered with a grainy layer of dust. Only the cherry blossoms break this visual monotony with clusters of blushing pink. Rosy cheeks on a pale, tired face. Sometimes to walk the paths of this world is to feel as though one is wandering through a vast, forgotten house; neglected and ravaged by time. An overgrown garden, a creaky stairwell, white sheets draped across moth eaten furniture like ghosts. All the things that were beautiful once, revered even, but have since faded into hazy memory in an age of sterility and technology. It is so lonely to be consumed by a longing for something that is barely there anymore, to have a constant and aching feeling that you belong in another world. But isn’t this the beginning of every fairytale?

Our protagonist then - who might she be? A girl who feels trapped, of course; who wishes with fervour for an adventure, a chance to run amok barefoot in stony places with wildly tangled hair. To fall in love and to fly, to swordfight and explore hidden places, to run with wolves and climb tall oaks, to converse with animals and sleep beneath the cold stars. All these things represent the nourishment that the human soul should never be denied. So when one feels the burden of grief, or of sorrow or disappointment, one must remember: hardship is merely a prelude to greater things, and adventures.