surrounded by a wall of words, she dreams in fragments. catching a whiff of past desires like morning bed breath. stale, festering doubts and regrets. a wound, red raw and oozing. unable to help herself, she leans into that breath, that soft breath, that slow foul breeze. at one time, this was the life she craved. a dream and promise she trusted. this was her heart, this was her home. coming to a decision, like a poppy seed head ready to burst, she greens into those walls of words, into those fragments of dreams, dreams gathered like seeds, planted like seeds for a future of her own conjuring, of her own breathing.