Resembling a palatial home perhaps to this one little girl, all with the fancy of being with no one else around but her own company… to drown out… by her own voice of thoughts that wrought the simmering silence reigning over the solitude. The dimmer and colder and quieter one, it was all supposedly so, all with the moist refreshment and yet mostly moistless air her lungs sucked in… sucking in the smell of haystack… it was a delightful dusty smell for it was sweet as well the air that flew into her chest. Felt heavy however, with every breath the young girl felt when she was sitting on a haystack while drowning herself amongst the high-stacked ones, but neither affliction nor ailment was the cause of it; all simply because of the upset she made—memories inside of her were playing a previous occurrence that was bitter without glitter,