She will do as she pleases. Stepping stones, polka dot dresses and ankle socks over tights. It matters not what the world says for she is in her own bubble. The glassy bauble of identity floats her around; sometimes gently blown by the breeze, sometimes squeezing through tight gaps but usually freely drifting upward; dancing to it's own inaudible tune.
The warmth of the sun is enough to power her and give her strength. The dewy mornings quench her thirst. The starry skies watch over as she sleeps.
She is part of the world.
Sophie