T H E A Q U A R I U S W O M A N
She is neither here, nor there. Maybe you’ve seen her on a bus, or on a train, or in a dream.
She is the cosmic traveler; a passing stranger you’ve seen before. Her mind says she is here for everyone, her soul says she belongs to no one.
Like a bird, she is always moving. She gets high off liberation— the view of life from way above; head in the clouds. She may never come down.





















