A Woman’s Bible

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What better layer of designs is there than a dilettante in her youthful season, one versed in the fine arts of theft? It is the paradigm of her existence, the moment that she falls in love and the redeeming hour in which she discovers why, turning that so-called initial encounter into something like a deep past. But this is not a love story; rather, it is a fluid indictment of the conscience I live with, a charmingly twisted romantic tale of love and of survival, for seldomly the twain do harmonize. It is the tale of two brothers, natural rivals--one born to the street and cruelly exposed and the other born to nobility and persecuted by fortune. A wholesale dismantling of this hypocritical institution called religion, it is the saga of those enduring moments in between that make time stand still.

Movements of divine interposition that are composed overtime. These cerebral, sensual, intellectual, and refined movements that make her existence exclusive. Curatorial movements circumventing the broken past that she lives with. The oaths avowed in the hypocritical midnight hour. Promises more terrifying than the jealous night that knows her secrets. Her constant fealties are perceived as a cruel and pervasive attack, though they were once virtuous, good, and decent. But she will only keep betraying him. Can you sense it? Do you feel it?