I feel the wind crash against my skin, enter my nose and into my lungs. I am alive today. My eyes are fixated at the thought of
those Narra Trees, standing proudly in the backyard; how the wind rustles with their branches; how the noise becomes music, whispering through my ears. I feel safety. Safety, like the way I lay
at my hammockβthe way I trust the ropes with an arm-strength of a man; how they held me so high
that I could touch the sky, like freedom soars across horizons in form of contrails.