Literature
She
She moved through the passage of time like a feather on the wind. Nothing could predict where or when she would turn up next, and when she had the grace to flit into your life, if you so much as blinked, you ran the risk of her flitting out again before you could say hello. This is what defined her, her will as fickle as the wind. And this is what undid her.
Much like many others who let their course be determined by unknowable forces, she met an early demise, filled with tears and regret, but possibly worst of all, no one to remember it by. Unknowable are the tragedies she suffered, and unthinkable were her struggles. This is wh