‘Ay, Eternal Woman,’ He sighs looking beyond the grass and the flowers, and into her dark hued beauty. He stands in the sun watching her.
He looks at her with gold, (like shadows are merely a highlight to her, and shimmers of reflected light creates creases and graphs of mathematical fractals that, maybe, only he could solve) and with ways of depravity that makes him never see the world in that same frivolous June-like vivacity again, he only saw her in that June-like vivacity; the same colors disappear from his very organs and pour out into the weather we sink in. That is what the Eternal Woman did to him and his skin; bleached and darkened him.
[SPOKEN OUT OF FRAME]
“What do you think of the movie so far?” He asks with wind. “I’m in love with it.” She casts her spell of double entendre. False and true. “Really?” “Yes, it’s inspired me. Thank you for showing me this movie.” “We still have half of the movie left to watch!” “You know what I mean.” His smile drifts into his voweled response, “Yeah.”