There are certain places where reality is a bit altered: in movie theaters, in empty parking lots after dusk, in highways, in hotel rooms with the curtains drawn.
I have always had a fascination in being the other woman. I was born in a village on the other side of the world and raised in a bustling cosmopolitan city in the west. Perhaps because I've lived in opposite spectrums, I see light in the darkest of places. Perhaps I created this persona to allow myself to be my most unaltered self. The world is filled with rules and transgressions. If you ask me, there is not enough pleasure.
We've only scraped the surface.
You might've walked swiftly past a young woman on the street, fresh and sweet as a lily of the valley. You saw her vividly later in your dreams, with magic dust at the ends of her hair, plump lips, and dimpled cheeks. When you awoke, you were ravenous.
Here, another chance: I am real. I love peeling clementines and watching dusty sunsets. I always keep a red manicure. I have a great laugh. A perfect day to me looks like an unrushed, honeyed afternoon, having a second slice of cake prodigal in cream and sugar, over playful banter about something I already forget.
All we need for a good time is some bubbly, lingerie, and a suspension of disbelief. Let’s get dressed in our best silks and manipulate time, darling.