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Sitting by the steps smoking, a frozen Pisces. It’s like she feels everything and also nothing all at the same time. She wears a cloak of invisibility, and it seems to find and soak all the secrets, wounds, and fears that everybody wants to hide. She can be a thousand women in one, seamlessly weaving into any shape or persona, her mind and body is in tune with so much more wisdom than anyone could know. Like she exhales the frost that other people have left around her heart, she goes into exile, a safe place to rest her  weary head. Here she creates an imaginary world of her own, lined with crystal icing and royal bedding, even if her own room is a war zone. She is too delicate and sacred to live fully out there amongst the wolves