A little girl holding onto a piece of string stood rooted to the ground. Beside her was a big oak tree that stood rooted to the ground too. She refused to budge, not an inch at all. In her hands, that particular piece of string was special to her. She promised herself not to let go of the kite she's been holding on for all these ages. Just like the tree which would stand strongly and resist the weather patterns.




It was tattered and torn. Its streamers aint as frilly as before. Obviously, its colour has faded as well. That striking red body is reduced to a tainted white figure, like how the blood would have been drained away from it. The folds and holes can only represent nothing, but the many injuries sustained. Will the same ending befall on her then?




She's really been holding onto that string of the lousy kite for ages. Is it time she let go both her hands off that string to embrace a new one? Her thoughts may be wavering, but her heart and desire never did.




The fucking kite had been stuck up in the intricate branches of the big oak tree for as far as the girl had stood rooted there. Her determination was so alarming, that even she herself couldn't believe it. Until one day, when she started to think again, could she comtemplate her foolishness.




Even self-awareness couldn't save her. She might have jolly well grew roots of her own into the ground! She was then lost and unsure of her purpose of holding onto that kite. Was she still standing there to continue her pursue for miracles? Or that she couldn't move at all, even at her own will because she became a tree too?





In any case, she's still standing there holding onto that kite. Tugging hard at it to free the kite was no solution. Letting her hands off aint easy for her at all. Standing there was the only way she could ever take.




When will another kite ever fly by?




I believe she'll still be there for the many ages that have yet to come.