There’s something to be said about the girl who dreams of rivers, who cant fall asleep when the moon shuts her eyes, because her thoughts are still awake. there’s something to be Wondered, about the girl who drinks from the hands of freedom, while everyone Around her won’t dare to taste a drop, that hasn’t spilled from the glass of captivity. There’s something to be learned, about the girl who knows every inch of the earth by its first name, but doesn’t let it break but a stitch of her bravery. She sleeps on the blue grass in the mean of her Indian valley, not a sound nor a breeze can shake this warrior’s intrepidity. There’s something to be known from the girl of the Indian valley, but it is only to be learned when felt by your own understanding.


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