.I drop to my hands and knees and crawl over the stone floor, scraping my knees, wearing my dress thin. I am covered in a film of dirt, but no hesitation mars my features. I scrabble with the iron ring for only a moment, though it feels like an eternity has passed. There is no moue of distaste, and no moment of uncertainty, I begin to climb down the trapdoor in the knowledge firm in my mind that I was always supposed to.
Image 3 - Vero Moda Petite - Jupe patineuse en jean