Feeling old, past her prime, out of the loop as it were; sitting in solitude, quiet contemplation; sipping pink spirits, sweet nectar de Paris; watching from a distance, always at a distance; some foolhardy, others a disgrace, but no two the same and none of particular interest.

When in the wee hours he came, from his Technicolor world; into the vast unknown, unwittingly into hers. To an island nestled deep, in the Aegean Sea; where all men are naked and women mate with the gods. A miraculous place, where the curvature of the universe was visible from the shore; galaxies unfurled onto one another, time was irrelevant and spirits flew tangible, so as to no longer be illusive.

Though danger lurked deep, in light as well as shadows and as was her nature, she dove headlong without thinking; into a world she didn’t belong, where death was eminent and the coming slow and painful.

She stumbled blind, round that last corner; seeking death or redemption, at that moment it made no difference. A familiar face, his beauty betraying his sin, on 185 horses he roared in like the wind. The dark knight of her days come to save her from harm; those who chased and that of her own; sages and soothsayers and a convoluted self-image.

Shocked to find him there, though she hesitated nary a moment, as he led her by the hand to a safe and secluded place; revealing all that she refused to think and never dared to dream. Heart pounding in sweet trepidation, as he slowly rose above, filling her completely, body and soul; coming inside with an explosion of color, matching then surpassing that which emanated his skin.