A dream… clearly a dream… right?

Jane looks around, immediately recognizing this river as the one she always visited as a child when family was still family. The waterfall. The reflections. The lilies. Everything was moved, but time had stopped, looking exactly like it had ten years ago.

A memory.

Her brothers played in the water some distance away under the watchful eyes of their parents. But no one saw an infant Jane quietly crawling away to a nearby pond to play alone under the falling water.

Yes… a dream…

Unknowingly, surrounding life disappears as the adult Jane walks toward the cascade, feeling jelly-like water under her feet. A butterfly flutters by. From behind, a younger Jane-slightly older than the infant- playfully chases it, trying to catch it with her bare hands but always missing. Her scarf dances in the still wind.

Life is like a butterfly. It begins as a caterpillar, unable to see ahead until something change it that it finally takes the air for a short time… then, when the wings reach its limits…it all goes down.

Controlled by her emotions and thoughts, the butterfly bursts into black flames the moment the younger Jane catches it with her scarf. Caught in burning darkness, the child tries putting it out by diving underwater. But she continues to burn. Black threads burst from her mouth and dance in the air. Threads of life.

The question is… when will our wings be torn?