She can make the excuses for it, perhaps, to explain about what was reality, what was not - all the places in between and the impossibility of it all.

But the direct answer is simplest, the smile soft, calm. Sure. The blonde curls drift, almost, swayed by an impossible current that seems to make her clothes move as well, nothing like the wind, but sunk deep to the purest, oldest, parts of herself.

"I remembered. I remembered the world was beautiful. That was such, before I felt pain, and it shall be again, after my pain is gone."