Samurai-sue traipsed through Columbian jungles, looking for a sin or a sign - which, once no longer lost, equated the same. She wore a hard-hat against the glare of Apollo, a hybrid style: half deconstruction worker and half safari hunter hat, a helmet against the curious sunlight of passers by.
She was never looking to be saved or even to save herself. This story holds no measure of victim or vagabond. Not even the pirate-kind, such as that portrayed by Johnny Depp, her fantasy idol.
No. This was simply an art of fearless. No less. No more. A quest to ignore, despite archaeological interest, each ruin she passed, each structure abandoned by time to her past. Some claimed, mistaken, that she sought a path out. Not so. She marched headlong and body short, deeper and deeper. Pushed past primordial ferns and creatures bizarre, for no reason less than finding the heart.
Only then could she find hers and be able to move on a risk, on a chance that there were hands to match. Strong enough to hold and quiet enough to let go: as calloused as the heart of a someone caught in her eye. A someone who lived in the north, far enough so to balance her south. Distant enough for her to catch a breath.
Silver trophy winner
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