Imagine, if you will, walking down a crowded street corner in Southern France. Imagine that it is mid-summer, just days after the Solstice, and the sun's brilliance has had no hindrance for a good few weeks now. You are just strolling along, taking it all in, maybe you live there? Or perhaps you are just visiting, and today you are out enjoying the sights; the tanned bodies, the ocean air, and the expertly crafted window displays. One after another you see them; bathing suits, summer dresses, the finest tailored linens, the shoes, the jewelry, everything plays of the glory of your natural surroundings, nothing is out of place, it's almost desensitizing, how systematic it can be at times, beautiful yes, yet so predictable, so afraid to disturb the balance of the world around it.
You continue to shuffle along the rocky cobble stone that lines the storefronts, but soon you are ripped away from the comfort of formality, your whole system of what is suppose to be is torn asunder by a sight that inflames your senses as your mind attempts to grasp what this image is that has been forced upon it.
White, Red, Black, all colors in there purest forms, you see them and can't loose them, so sharply distinct that it hurts to consider them all as a whole. It's a woman that you see, she is walking toward you, and you cannot stop watching her. Although you tend to shy away from producing such a blatant gaze at another person, you are transfixed, paralyzed. Perhaps at the radiance of this glorious creature, perhaps, but all you are sure of is that you have never seen such an awesome sight in a very long time.
Her hair is jet black and shines as if still wet, long and flowing with curling ends. She looks like the grave, so pale and almost lifeless, but not as you know death in real life, but as you remember it from the fairy tales of your childhood. Snow White would have looked like this, lying lifeless in her glass coffin, cold, discolored, but as beautiful as the un-trodden snow that surrounds her in a white forest. Your skin begins to chill as this angelic being continues closer and closer, it is a welcoming chill in the moist heat of the summer air. She is dressed so elegantly that you find yourself wondering if this might be some princess from a land that must still observe the customs of dress from many years ago, you've seen them on television after-all, but none yet have been as fair as this girl, and as you come close she stares back, emitting a smile that shines like diamonds lain in a bed of roses of the deepest red, a red so unfathomable that your heart seems to sink into it's complexity.
This meeting has seemed like a lifetime of melancholy, you long to look again, but her beauty is so toxic that it pains you to even think upon it, and now she is gone, and all is what once had been, and you feel the blood begin to circulate again as your soul begins to thaw under the summer sun.
