She never sweats. She would be never caught with unruly hair or worn out soles on her shoes. She wears pearls, big shiny spheres keeping the memories of the moonlight. She is detached, noble, some call her cold. Oh no, she is not the Snow Queen, just look at the fabulous white geraniums under her window sill, still so outrageously blooming despite the fact that she fired her gardener over a month ago. Never mind the memories... Never mind the moonlight...
And me? I am wearing (let me peek in order not to avoid spelling errors!

) Etat Libre D'Orange Eloge du Traitre. Getting ready to go to work. Could not sleep all night again.