January in Brisbane holding a Koala. Melbourne in a long black dress. February is Dubai’s white sands in a pink bikini and shades. Behind her in the distance, echoing her curves, is the Burj Al Arab, the most luxurious hotel on earth. Its sail shape soars upwards as Federer’s forehands and Tiger Woods’ tee shots are launched from its helicopter pad. March palm trees sway in the desert wind of Indian Wells, California. April is Astana, Kazakhstan for the Billie Jean King Cup. She gives her Kazakhstani teammates high fives. She takes a selfie with fans. May walks down Rome’s streets with a stylish black jacket. History’s buildings on both sides get smaller and smaller as Yulia moves towards their vanishing point. She leaps off the red clay in Paris, her forehand a whip, her pony tail an airborne scythe on many of the world’s flags.
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