Women lost in translations

I always knew she had the courage it takes to soar. Soar above the ordinary, brave the shadows, the darkness. That's why we were friends. Correction. Are friends. I don't deny she's erratic. That, she probably is more than me. But she has the strength to defy. And that's what I have come to love about her, over the years. Should I say then, that I haven't disputed her choices in life? More than ever. But disputes and debates over the do's/ don'ts have shaped us up. I don't agree with most of what she says. Not because they don't translate into tangible outcomes. But because I know for a fact, somewhere we both are lost in translations. Sounds odd though. Women lost in translation. Yet undefinable meanings are lost in bounds of grammar. Rebellious women, like her, have to be given wings to glide. To tame the wilderness into snuggled dusks. They have to be given the breathless passion to love. Proverbial Icarus of my time.