Words flew from her pen. She scribbled furiously on the once blank sheet of paper ; passion visible on her face. Passion for her words, for her writing, for her cause, and for the blank pages she wished she could quickly fill. She wrote of old times, and then of present times, and of how she imagined the future would be. She expressed elation at how it could be, if only she could bring a revolution through her words. She expressed regret, at how much her efforts lacked and at what could happen if there were no revolution. She expressed wonder at how her people used to be, and she expressed desire of being like them-maybe even better. She wrote of all that she wanted the world to be, and of all that she wished it weren’t. She wrote of her confidence in the system that she believed could work. She carefully composed all of her ideas for the world to be a happier, fairer place. She put into words her faith, her strong belief, her determination and her confidence. She made sure every single scribble captured her fire, with all vehemence. She wrote and wrote… With vigor.
No picture, no photograph could capture that scene; the fire she emitted at the time she wrote, and the way her words came alive on those sheets. It was her written revolution; one that she planned to see alive.