Her day begins with the salient salvos of the stray dogs in the street. Though reluctantly, but, she gets up. It is Sunday – a day when she can unfurl the bleached bones of her story without the apprehensive notions of hindrance. She sits with the hot cup of espresso ( her best friend in recent years ) and reminisces about the antediluvian anecdotes of her life – the ambrosial amalgamation of struggle and happiness. Painful moments? Yes, they have been there. But she made it a point to kiss them with benevolence. Within a few seconds, a corpus of events unroll like a chart paper from the clutches of a tight rubber band and lay flat on the corpulent balcony railing she is facing. Events which made her what she is today. Independent. Self-sufficient. The hardships gave her lows like a wet sock.The relationships gave her blows like a cruel mock. Yet she stands upright with all might to conquer the world. And one day, she will. WHO IS SHE? She is YOU. She is ME. But she surely ain’t just a pronoun!