A whimsical wonderland of wistful strawberries

To wait. To wonder. To worry. So much that goes through one’s mind while waiting for a flight. She saw a gentleman with a wheelbarrow holding up a winterberry inside a wastebasket. Whatever may be, this was a bit of a windlestraw and felt as if they were tilting at windmills. Whimsy was all around them yet buried deep. She flinched as another man walked by. There were wildebeests trailing him with wistfulness and willfulness. A wrecked purpose and a wonderland of strawberries. What would her mind think of next? Whatever may come was bound to be grand and wild. She grabbed her carry-on, walked up to the gate, and waddled on board hoping for a wellspring of good humor and curiosity.

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