I literally feel like those women who stare back at the world now... from their perch... from their portraits.
Am I of flesh and blood? Or have I finally convinced myself that I, too, can be deserving of a framed waltz of oil?
(At least this is how it feels like inside of me.)
Daily now, for quite a long time running already, I feel like a never ending celebration is always being held... with me as the hostess and the solitary guest...
And all night, I dance...:)
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