As the dragon flies.
A petite girl sitting on the front porch of your subrurbian house. Her orange dress barely reached her knees and grazes carelessly her soft thighs, carelessly as the summer breeze blowing through her wavy, brown hair. Her eyes, not as crystal clear as the water of an alpine lake, but more like the haze of an untouched sapphire, a solemn blueness, which is both intriguing and tranquilizing. She's talking on the phone and giggles occasionally, and her soft laughter echoes through the whole neighbourhood, even though no one can hear it. She has just re-discovered that she's setting on a journey abroad with someone who wants to share the world with her. Her head is filled with dreams as wild as a field of orange tulip.
A dragonfly soars through the yard and softly lands on her hand. The dragonfly is fragile as all life is. The girl knows that the dragonfly won't live for more than a couple of short summer months. And we all know that summers slip away silently. Silently as the wings of an eagle, gliding elegantly over the mountains. The dragonfly will fly for all its worth to live its life to the fullest, and the girl thinks alike.
The girl lets the dragonfly take off from her palm.
On the other side of the world, a dream comes true.
.find our way home.