Parcigal learned the powers of personal appearance, nearly two decades past. She learned its ability to exploit and/or to be exploited, nearly a decade ago. Hell, all gals did where she was from, Alabam, the Dirty South. Personal appearance stood as the primary source of feminine efficacy (next to blood kin).
The place where they raised her never addressed that which she regularly pondered: the long game for pretty lady face.
This type of prettification during youth resulted in an aged-self prettifying to remain relevant, as a new generation of beautiful gals arose.
The true Tao seemed to be finding Beauty unmasked.
She started to let her face be as it is. Washed it, moisturized it, but that was all.
She became the appearance of the female she was.
She did this, going about daily public interactions, until she knew her face,
Became the female she is.
Then she wields the power of makeup’s masking properly. Not defensively.
Parcigal lived her dream of Art. She reinterpreted Myshkin anew, unbound to previous ties made.
Of course now, books are more often quoted than read.
The once enumerable is now innumerable.
Parcigal recoils from monastic traditions. It is being one a crowd, faceless.
Initiation required heavy control over the individual’s entire life. Gives very little free will. They seperate sexes, assuming gals are even allowed at all. It imparts a tacit intent to shame the sexual nature of the h. sapien mammal. She does not doubt the resiliency of these traditions. But, her energy does not run properly in their circuits.
She recoils from secret societies and erudite traditions, because she distrusts agendas she agrees to but cannot fully see. It feels, in her mind, like blindly giving away power.
But she is wary. She is also extremely lovesome.
A lovesome nature required diligence.
What was the use of sensualism with a resonant partner?
Why was this primal magic so hidden?
Magnetism and electricity.
Conductive bodies are conducive to utilizing each resonant body.
So, in her Fool way, she left her Ewer the note below.
The morning after she spent her first night in the handmade.
Before she snuck out (after two minutes of hard doting on his sky-eyes) without rousing him.
The sun shied back into the woods, partially concealed behind a cloak of mist and residual angular trajectory.
It gave the morning a quintessence of allure and glamour, even including that tinge of melancholy which the Vested feel.
I suppose nostalgia may be a more apt descriptor than melancholy.
Then again, I guess both words are completely right & dexter yet, simulateously, inappropriate.
The sun tests the boundary condition between night and day; everyday it rises.
I test the boundary condition within to see how supple and malleable I be without shattering into infinity just yet.
Slightly aggressive, especially if feeling
Total arousal of senses. Endocrine ; adrenaline ; spite but not smite at The Smug who think shes blind.
Eyes cutting sidewards, upwards to the left or downwards
i.e. any way but candidly.
Only one mouse spoke words to make her honest shudders occur.
UnLike the ignorant liars, soothsayers, mad pipers, would be priors, et al.
Facading smile worn in protection of someone or something. Such a precious, protective pretense should be judged not.
We keep Stretching until tendons roll over bits of lingering softness.
Until ligaments distend symmetricaly and transform that which was almost unrecognizable into something that is inexorably unrecognizable.