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Troubled in ways no one knew, the eight-year-old child found her freedom balancing on the spindly branches of adolescent maples, and by piloting a modified Schwinn Tornado along the semi-rural roads of her neighbourhood.

At school and in the close proximity of parents, she lived life on the scale of societal expectations, moulding her given persona neither through deceit nor conscious effort, but out of desperate attempts to abide.

At night, under the barrier covers of linen shields, dichotomous existence fought its inner war, felt truth versus pack expectations.  In the ominous quiet she wondered why, she yearned for physical reconstruction, she yearned to be home in the life intended but assembly misplaced.

By day, she ascended trees and admired the above roof view, eschewing two-dimensional ground existence through the vertical elongation of her perspective.

Admonitions declared her wrongness, painful in memory.  Taunts she veered from in pursuit of comfort no one could offer.  In the rewound world of her childhood, revelation meant evaluation and evaluation meant stigma, a medical track designed not to connect her to her world but to force her into theirs.  The choices started interventionist, with medication.  If deemed insufficient in result, institutionalisation loomed, or so the all too aware child feared.

Biological explanations she knew not, she just lived it, not worked it as research profession.  She wondered on her singularity, unaware of the twin spirits of Native American culture so out of place in the modern western design.  Not until age ten did she learn of the most famous contemporary twin spirit, who a dozen years before declared herself to a startled world, unashamed and unafraid.

Options limited, the child rode and she climbed, expanding outward, testing limits, hoping the spirits of her world would break through and find their way to her side.