Lying on the bed with sun shining through her small window; warming up her small chamber that she currently shares with her mini-me (aka her kid brother), trying to ignore the persistent bird tweets early in the mornings. Such simple details are what makes up the season called Spring.



April, despite the chilly mornings, the sun manages to lit the world up by givining the late night's frost-bitten ground that sparkly shine - which is yet to be duplicated.
Her nose itches, on the wurge to runny, and she knows, like the the trees know, like the returning birds from the south know, that it is the time of the year. The time where the long, cold, and harsh season has passed, and in its place a warmer, more gentle and filled with possitive energy season tests its water. Spring, the symbol of a new beginning, the symbol of a second change - the symbol of another future. Yes, she can tell how her entire being shifts along with the weather. Gone is the constant chill. Gone is dark gloom. Slowly the depressing wardrobe is replaced by colours leading her to various directions. What path is the right one and which one should be avoided is yet unclear. However, she knows, deep down inside, that regardless of her choice - what the future holds are endless of possible outcomes. That, is what really matters.