The world swirled around her in a mass of color. Melding together until there was nothing left. What life is left in a world where people are afraid to live? The girl didn't know. Her world void of color was nothing short of a pit of despair. Why a girl who loved the colors that surrounded her, who created the pictures, became blind. Painting, her passion, was brutally sucked out of her. The monster that had robbed her overlooked the thing that made her great. As it was not only her eyes that created the beauty of the pictures, but she had made it with her hands. Directing the paint, training it, her hands had followed the eyes. Now they were on their own. It is times like these that leaders are born, that compliance is forgotten. As it was, the girl used her hands, not to paint, as that chapter was closed forever, but to sculpt. She projected the pictures of her heart onto the slippery clay. Feeling the ridges of her creations, she brought to light the sight within the blindness. Where one passion had been extinguished another had begun. Once again, her world swirled with the colors.