"Growth is messy, for her at least. She doesn't grow gracefully. No, her soul doesn't stretch like the lithe limbs of a prime-ballerina. Her soul does mouth open yawns with drool and squinty eyes, as she awakens to her new level of evolution. She lurches clumsily into the delivery room of her growth, she trips and lays sprawled out on the floor, legs akimbo. That's her soul's journey. She's dragged around her former skin for ages now, she knows it does not really fit anymore,