As a little bright-eyed girl, I was convinced every summer the same red and black butterfly came to visit me. Every summer I would anticipate her visit. I would sit amongst the dandelions and wild daisies patiently waiting for her to fly by me and rest on my outstretched finger. I would sit for hours alone in my own quiet world of bliss and faith; lost in the belief that mine was the only fingertip that could touch her wings, and that she was the only one who could connect with my secret thoughts and dreams. For I dreamt I could fly away with her and live my life chasing the beautiful colours and aromatic fragrances of flowers. I wished I could sprout those fragile red and black wings and become the butterfly that could traverse through natures peaceful landscape only touched by beauty.
