The sun was pleasant high above. The clouds, however, were down below, puffing like cotton, freely showing its pure white glow (because of the sun's rays, of course). Bright brown eyes were focused on the plains they were leaving. They were focused on the vast seas they were going to take. Her red locks comfortably fell down her shoulders as her pale fingers drew a heart on the window as it fogged. Finding there was no more to see but the clouds below, she rested her head and had her eyes closed and smiled. She smiled because she was once again high above, with an unknown adventure lying up ahead.
Maria Pamela Olivia is a traveler. She has long been comitted to traveling that it has become a part of her. It was the only juice that keeps her soul from going after everything has gotten her into. It was the only time she was able to be free and apart from everything she ought to face. Indeed, it was cowardice but it was her only manner of giving herself the chance to be love her whole self.
It wasn't a sin, traveling. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it. You come place to place destination after destination without a direct picture on how things would be country after country. It was a good way to become different persons since you can actually start over again without turning time. The only thing that kept on repeating was Pamela falling for men after men. It was becoming a pandemic to her whole being.
Every year, she'd be in a different country with a different man. It may sound outrageous but that was how she lived for the rest of her early twenties.
Pamela however, is still a woman. No matter how slutty she has looked after all she's done, and women get tired, so with realizing that she has to stay put and finally, begin a real family, she stopped traveling. And the dove finally lands, 'though without an olive leaf.
Stick to a tense, that was the main one.
