Gloria sat on the smooth cool dirt road that was lined with carts and people selling their... not so legal wares. In front of her sat a small woolen basket she had weaved in her early years. This basket had been her salvation. Those days when she had nothing, her back nearly bare par the clothes on her back, her stoumach hollow, the leaves in her mouth doing little to help numb the groaning whispers from it's depth. This basket set in front of her daily as she cradled her young bird until it was old enough to sit on her shoulder as it was today.
She smiled a small snake crawling up her arms as she danced to her own singing. It was beautiful. Her tan skin glistened under the hot midday sun. Big, slightly slanted, chocolate eyes opened wide for all. And her hair as wild as a lion's mane crowned her head. She loved preforming, it gave her life on even the darkest of days.