With a breton shirt and red lipstick, a figure moves across shadows on the grass. The evening air is still and the tumultuous thoughts tumbling and cartwheeling like acrobats through her mind slow to the sound of crickets chirping in the distance. Each breath floats and joins the lilac clouds blooming above her, and at last she stops her drifting steps and stands amid a field of dandelions. A soft snap sounds in the near-silence as she plucks one of the flowers and brings it to her lips. With a soft breath, she sends the spores into a dance, at first of frenzy, but soon a weightless waltz carried on a sudden gust of wind. Each dancer carries a wish, never to be fulfilled, but she smiles anyway.