Haimish and series circuit

When she dreams, the world breathes in technicolor, a vivid breeze beneath the wings of a butterfly. She's drawn to him like she's drawn to paintings of the sea; they call to her as past lives waiting to be remembered. Daily events spark and cool, welding present to past, revealing new lights and facets unknown. Nothing settles easily, and nothing smells like home. Rather, the burning incense carries her to a faraway land that dances back and forth to a beat all its own. She hums the tune without even knowing, and everyone stares as she walks down the street.