She is a pixie - fair headed, eyes elvish; her stature is small and bookish. And yet from this seemingly timid frame, two aqua eyes pierce into the depths of you. Clear. Unclouded. Resolute. They shine with a wild gleam, pulsing with some unbeknownst, secret knowledge.
When she opens her lips to speak, a torrent of rousing words pours out. Words that whisper the seductive promise of equality, words whose meaning has power enough to free the shackles of the eternally oppressed working class.
She has put her life on pause for ideology, no, for justice - and yet, she is decidedly middle class. The clean scrubbed skin, the comfortable cotton of her neat t-shirt and mustard yellow leggings.
But no one doubts her sincerity, she is fully committed to her cause. The truth of it has seeped into her soul. The depth of her commitment emanates, it pours out from every fibre of her being, it overflows from the pores of her skin. Her frame is tense, her movements are prone to jerkiness, but her clear voice expresses no doubt. The depth of her commitment is all-consuming, unnervingly so.
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