"It was that little twig of a shrunken, withered branch stuck in her hair that had people looking at her twice. And she held her head high - walking forth with confidence she never had - because she could see that people were finding something in her to pay attention to. The world was acknowledging her, and that was all that mattered, yeah? Of course, she didn't know 'why', exactly, that was. She didn't know about that little piece of waste wood stuck in her hair. But then - did she even need to?" - by myself, yes.