A title... A title at last. Master of Arts, M.A... She had thought it'd feel differently, make her more important, as if in that very instant she'd become mature, wise, a sage... But there was no difference. She was still the same girl, trying to empty her mind of worries.

While her thesis was finished, had been handed in and rated, the next hurdle had already appeared on the horizon, for now it was time for her to cross the great river and to tear down the bridge behind her. Too long she had been a spoiled little girl. She could no longer flee and hide behind the folds of her mother's skirt. The world expected her to be a woman, even though she didn't feel like one.

Once upon a time there would not have been a choice; She wondered how it would have been many years ago... No-one ever told her the whole story, yet she had heard fragments and seen it portrayed in films.

She closed her eyes and saw herself in a mirror, her hair braided and decorated with ribbons and tassels. Long lashes cast their shadow over her dark eyes, the lids made heavy with make-up; Her cheeks red as if she was blushing.

The robes were made of red silk, embroidered with gold. They followed the curves of her body, but from her waist down they spread out in many folds, reaching to the ground.

She felt how her mother's hands brushed a few strands into place and then attached the headdress. She gave her a strange smile, as if she did not know whether to be happy or sad. Then there was only red... The veil had been lowered to hide her face. She was a present to her groom, neatly wrapped in silk.

They guided her to the door, through the corridors and halls and towards the sedan. How tiresome every step seemed, for her feet were those of a lady, tended like a bonsai tree. She realized that she would never see the house, nor the people that lived in it. Who else was there in this dream besides her mother?

She climbed into the strange vehicle and felt how it was lifted onto the strong shoulders of men belonging to another class. Would there be a procession? Would people wait in the streets to see her being carried to her husband's family? This was her wedding, yet she couldn't see it herself.

She opened her eyes and looked at the clouds. Back then she would be married off, traded for gold and cattle and spend the rest of her life between the walls of her husbands house.

But the present was the present; Her parents had invested a lot in her studies and her feet were size 7. She lived in a world were women could become president or astronaut and where daughters were as important as sons, a world where she could seek her own husband and live wherever she wanted...

Somehow she wondered though. Back in those days all that was expected of a woman was to bear a son. A husband was arranged and he would take care of her wellbeing. Her future would be secure and predictable. Yet nowadays to even dream of such things was ungrateful. Wave after wave of feminism had given her the liberties to work and to choose her own Mr. Right... The obligation to find a job and earn her own money, the threat of dying without a husband or a child in a world were empty materialism had replaced ceremony and romance...