Poetess : no I am not writing from Siberia,
And not from locked up place either (laughing).
Inner voice : seems happy actually.
Poetess (singing) : give me beautiful land as a gift,
I will not put a brick on it,
Never build any door from you, let some one else to shine, cross the line.
What will I have?
Let me think...
I will have sky with wind, day and night. .
