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Perhaps it’s the music of the birds or the grainy cool sand beneath me or the salty breeze coming from the ocean that rouses me to open my eyes and take it all in: Neverland. I find myself lying on the beach; as I sit the glowing orb of the sun is rising from its slumber too from the distant edge of the horizon. Inhale: peace and tranquility. Exhale: preoccupations and stress of my waking life. Standing and lifting my arms in the air, my limbs have a renewed vigor – a yearning to dance, jump and run. The jungle trees sway behind me, plump and juicy fruit falling, flying and landing on soft patches of grass. I pick up the purple fruit, skin shiny and taut, the juice dripping down my chin as I bite in, sweet and sour. I climb up a small mountain, stand on the cliff on this island surrounding my water of the purest clarity and I know I have found paradise. When I wake in the morning in my bed sweating, one sister against my back and another curled into my stomach, I cannot bare to think of the day ahead: gray and smoggy, standing on a corner of a busy street selling roses to men in business suits and shiny shoes, stomach growling with desire for the fresh bread the baker sets to cool by the racks before being sent out in crinkly brown paper bags, and going home in time for a supper of watery soup and rice before prayer and then bed to drift off and travel to that wondrous place, my Neverland.

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