This isn’t merely the past. It precedes her birth. It is a time when the spirit and the landscape were one. When tropical rains gently descended as snowfall, and deserts expressed themselves as tornadoes of dust on the moon’s surface. When oceans slept as ponds within volcanic craters, lulled by the wind’s tales. When freedom wasn’t a burden, and love was not compromised. For they were one and the same.
