She stood still, savouring the silence.
Her eyes greedily drank in her surroundings.
The sights and sounds that sprang forth danced and lingered around her, searing her mind.
She breathed profoundly.
She inhaled the cloying, clogging air that writhed and swirled around her.
She felt lost and dissipated.
She felt grounded, rooted.
She felt the thrill and shrill sound of her fluttering, shattering heart.
She willed her heart to be still, cool and calm.
She had come back to the source.
Yes! She had finally yielded.
She had given in to the irresistible pull of the call that emanated from deep within the recesses of her soul.
A la source, yes, that was it, back to the source, back to the essence of who she was.
She sighed and allowed her whole being to dive and plunge into the moment.
She lifted her countenance.
A smile of pure rapture lightened up her once-taut and worn-out features.
She finally found her way back to herself, à la source.
(à la source French for back to the source)