https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/12127
Third Daughter – 09/20/21
…and she gazed upon what she had achieved, in her mind, not what she had become, but what she was, reflected back to her in the mirror she stood before, elegant, a woman of style, one with an overwhelming classic pose and profile of innate…nobility, yes, and worth, having no foundation in mere money, pedigree or wealth, but forever, at least for now, settled within her innate possession of… And here, this is where it…always seemed to end…or better, yes, was never able to truly begin, so many false starts, always crossing the finish line by stepping backwards, not knowing where else to step, like a train shrieking its whistle, and billowing steam, and endlessly starting up and beginning to move and eternally never leaving the station and not understanding…she not understanding why…yes…always stopping with some metallic exhaustion somewhere down the line, but always in the station, always still in the station…always the reality…reality and not knowing why…well almost. For she knew that a rope, coils, of pearls about her neck would impress, but that they did not touch her, the pearls in honesty no more lustrous if they could even be warmed by her flesh, in all its porcelain glory. And a ten carat pear shaped diamond…perhaps, but at times considered vulgar by envious, spiteful eyes…as such were hers at times. And the word, the description, that she wanted, yet always elusive, was simple…the word “good”, that what she saw, that what she had achieved and created, as she gazed upon herself, was that it was good, and this she knew…that if it would come and… And this one thing, she did know and understand, for the absence of this word, of this “good”, its innate and eternal flight from her mind and her lips, was the only good, a very good, to come from her gaze upon herself, for it saved her from whatever would come to her if she was ever deluded enough to pronounce good upon herself…yes…
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