free as the wind

“The virus is as free as the wind,” Pietro Brambillasca, an anesthesiologist who works with Duca, tells me over the phone.

She saw that John was scandalized at the way she had grown up on the island, running free as the wind in a world filled with sunshine.

“I’m a desert woman, and I’m proud of that. I want my husband to wander as free as the wind that shapes the dunes. And, if I have to, I will accept the fact that he has become a part of the clouds, and the animals, and the water of the desert.”

As we walk across Bando’s meadow, he whistles; I throw back my head, and, feeling free as the wind, breathe in the fresh mountain air.

In a place where, as soon as we were teenagers, we’d have to cover our heads and hide ourselves from the boys who’d been our childhood playmates, we ran as free as the wind.