My ears hear what others cannot hear.
Small, faraway things people
cannot normally see are visible to me.
These senses are the fruits
of a lifetime of longing.
Longing to be rescued.
To be completed.
Just as the skirt needs the wind to billow...
...I'm not formed by things
that are of myself alone.
I wear my father's belt
tied around my mother's blouse.
And shoes which are from my uncle.
This is me.
Just as a flower does not choose its color...
...we are not responsible
for what we have come to be.
Only once you realize this
do you become free.
And to become adult...
...is to become free.
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