L'ENNUI BOURGEOIS

She moved through a world of gilded rooms and sparkling garments. Her days wereadorned with blasts of expensive trinkets and credit cards that swiped through herfingers as water. Every movement was a performance. She was a perfect figurine in a world of façades. Wealth is fleeting-friends disappeared like flowers withering, leaving the air filled with the dusty, deadaromas of the past. Alone in the vacuum of her mind, she wanders through memories like an actressrevisiting old parts. Her world has shrunk to a single room, a self-made prison. Yet,she finds a strange comfort in this space. She dresses the walls with illusions insteadof wallpaper, wearing them like her finest silks. She knows the cult of appearances will consistently demand more; like an addict,she craves with an insatiable hunger that drains the soul. She no longer believes inthat promise but still daydreams because, in those fantasies, she is never lonely.