She walks down the fading asphalt street, her mind full of tumbling thoughts of feuding friends and bitter comments from her boyfriend, turning the words, and the world, over and over in her head, searching all facets for a new, brighter side, yearning for one that has yet to be discovered. She walks through a stone arch, and inside, it’s a haven. The screech of motorcycles and roaring of cars melt away into a hushed, faraway hum, the bothersome chirping of birds transform into a joyful melody sung by happy people everywhere. Most importantly, her painful moments are erased from her mind, as if they’ve never even existed, never even grazed the surface of her thoughts. She walks towards the front desk, and people with soft voices tell her where she needs to go, and she goes. She picks her mat, and sits, waiting patiently for the teacher to come. She’s not a patient person, never, but somehow, here, she can wait, she can wait through the holding of the most painful stances and through the burning in her thighs as they do the Warrior pose and through the easy, effortless positions that go on and on. Time flows, a river flowing smoothly, no disruptions, no rocks, no twigs floating atop of the water, just flowing. Her body flows too, flows through the frustration of not being able to touch her toes and the amazing stretching feeling of the Cobra after working her core. Time flows by so swiftly, so suddenly, that near the end of class, the teacher announces in her soft, lullaby voice that now, it is the time for Savasana, the corpse pose, the time for rest. She lies down, and is in love with the feeling of her usually tense spine reaching towards the floor, the feeling of her blood slowing down throughout her veins, the dim light playing peek-a-boo through her fluttering eyelids, fluttering and fluttering, and then ding... ding... ding... The corpses rise from the dead, and she is awakened at last; her limbs, aching; her muscles, like jelly; her head, clear; and the world, at peace.