"Maybe there isn't such a thing as fate. Maybe it's just the opportunities we're given, and what we do with them. I'm beginning to think that maybe great, epic romances don't just happen. We have to make them ourselves." Wanda have always believed, and I still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value.
When She was young, she had to choose between the life of being and the life of doing. And Wanda leapt at the latter like a trout to a fly. But each deed you do, each act, binds you to itself and to its consequences, and makes you act again and yet again. She come upon a space, a time like this, between act and act, when you may stop and simply be. Or wonder who, after all, you are.
Wanda was alone this evening, and she is alone because of a cruel twist of her trauma when she lost her brother, a phrase which here means that nothing has happened the way she thought it would. Once Pietro gone she was a broken inside with a sharp pain in her warm heart. She only had Pietro a person who loved Wanda very much. As she sit in this very tiny room, printing these words with a very large pencil, Wanda feel as if her whole life has been nothing but a dismal play, presented just for someone else's amusement for HYDRA. The playwright who invented her cruel twist of fate is somewhere far above Wanda.
To be continued...
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