I like the way she works.
I love to see her working, because she can't see me when I do. She
works with patience, she works in silence, her gaze staring at the
spinning wheel. There is nothing else in her life, but her work is
not slavery, it's an effort to clean herself, to become better, to
deserve what she desires. She's worthy, she deserves the best, she
gets her hands dirty but doesn't need to pray with them.
I'm sure someday she will
reach happiness. She's more like a steady spider, with so many
hard-working hands and eyes, who weaves her web only some inches
above the ground in hope to catch a falling star in it: her unique
and true desire, because her happiness is only in herself.
