It came back to that. Her art. She remembered the windmills nearly... a year ago? More? She had lost track of time. The windmills and the blades and the wind. She had never understood that. Never been able to replicate the moment perfectly either.

She wondered now if she was about understand.

Esperanza took her sketchbook in both hands, flipping open to the drawing of the dog she had done.

"Yeah," She answered, her voice a bit softer now. "I was drawing him when I heard the men in the building."