That girl was nothing else but laughter and sweet dreams. She once climbed a tree thinking that she would be able to see the end of the rainbow from the top and find the treasure which would serve to help her poor parents.
I am sad. I did not see her die, I was busy trying to be polite and correct. Borges said once "If I could live my life again, I would commit more mistakes", and that girl was nothing but forced to follow that blessed red tape. But I've got sick of queuing! I don't wanna live afraid and hidden, I don't wanna be a straight tree! I want my branches to be curved and to form funny shapes where birds can nest, where creatures may come to life. I want to be covered with flowers during spring and the summer, and not to be pruned in the autumn so that I will grow better...and what is "better" anyway?
It's my time to be the hero, it's time to be the protagonist of my own life. I want to save that girl, bring her back to life...but how? I wanna believe, just like she would have believed in all her innocence, that that is possible. Though I think she might not be dead after all, since the eco of her voice still survives in my ears, as well as her sighs and laughter continue to bounce on my belly. I can rescue her from fear and silence, I can free her from political correctness...and maybe one day I will be a little more like her.