Upon a flexible podium rests her head, a grade A organic egg. It is bronze from the hours of frying in the sun. The egg sits vertically throughout her day. The egg is plumper at the center, but subtly comes to a round end at the bottom. This egg holds her delicate thoughts and dreams. Draped on the top of the egg are rolling hills of black linen. This linen as all other clothes can serve many purposes. For her, it is is a loyal shield she can hide behind, a wall between her and the world. In the middle of the egg is a mushroom-like nose which allows her to inhale and exhale. However grateful she should be that mother nature gives her such abilities, the mushroom only reminds her constantly that there are parts of her that she isn’t proud of visible to everyone but herself. For sight she was given two leaf-shaped eyes. The stems faced outward and casted a small shadow on the egg. In the middle of each eye is a black water droplet. They contain more depth others see with a glance. Slightly north of each eye is a scarce field of grass. She wouldn’t be able to eat without being blessed with two connected rainbows. When the rainbows open they reveal two rows of ivory bricks bound together by metal chains.

In the inside, she is darker. She fears to stay a caterpillar, never blossoming into what all her peers will transform into. As they spread their newly found wings and strength, flying into the vast world of waiting opportunities, she’ll be abandoned in the old world, dreaming of her wings. But even with no color, there are more layers. Sinking deeper into her fears, she wonders what difference would it make if she did have wings? Would she be prepared to break the barriers she built to instead create a door?

Right now she sees herself as a box. Closed, plain, unworthy of attention. Keeping everything to herself. Shutting others out and not knowing or wanting to let people in. However, as she is still young, there is still hope of change. Currently she is an embryo, still growing, still finding her identity. Perhaps someday she’ll instead see herself as not a box, but a gleaming treasure chest.