The world is wicked. Even the natural elements are possessed by a sense of inherent aim towards destruction which we find echoed in man like a reverberating illness. Each is tainted: man, woman, child. Infected and bitter; crying out that life has no meaning. Cyclically the earth spins in tandem with the nausea swirling in our brains and gut. Cyclically we chase wind, striving after a specter that must urge us from behind: no point, no purpose. Though suddenly, a shock of lightening splinters the sky into purplish clarity. 
Tiny specks of cool rain drip upon our foreheads and the fever subsides. Wickedness is wiped away in a single stroke of gentleness. A stranger’s altruism glows electric as an act of rebellion, a pinprick of abnormality, an unusual and harrowing experience that throws its receiver to the ground – eyes wide and mouth gaping like one having been electrocuted by a burst from the sky and yet survived to live life with an altered perception of existence. Listen to me. Trump the worldly expectations of malice, cruelty and selfishness with love, gentleness and self-control. Be radical. Be the whisper that mocks the storm’s thunderous wails.
The Girl Who... 