...at the Mall I amble between the coastal isles, an empty jar, a sheep, a caw, a hen, and not the collectors' crystals... she toddles next to me, the little girl is matching a silk scarf... life... lives wearing legend words... drumming for a combat are the knights... priced and sitting on a shelf, a season full of dazzled eyes, she is an inch taller today. Stylish she asks if her skirt is tropical enough, spotless, and bright. Rich... girly... she is eyeing the clay birds... I want that, Please maani (Mama) that one I want. It needs my room, my shrine... The goldfish is in the tank, a rose in the vase, the garments...... and shadows pass us by... revolving around us, pearls, feathers, gloves, and glamour headwears. The little girl tries a vintage styled ladies hat on, an embroidered, bright and shiny hand bag under her arm, a pair of women shoes ... on her little feet... and off she walks to the mirror... patchworks and the landscapes are on the surrounding walls, and the tall mirror reflects back at us: a little girl playing dress up and... her mother drunk by the wine of love, and the pleasure from the sight...

thank you... my sublime divine.