She floats between continents, forever maintaining an eclectic eye, searching for love in the form of beauty.
On a Balinese beach, cast with dark grains, her dress moved silently in the incense-laden breeze. The last few rays of daylight cast soft shadows before the closure of sunset.
Delicate eyelashes had attracted many men in the past, but her companion today was a butterfly of picture book splendor. Briefly tickling her nose, with an arid airy kiss, the butterfly resumed flight in nameless pursuit.
Our bohemian was delighted for she believed that all the world’s love and color rested on these fragile, whimsical wings. Giving chase, she cupped her hands to snatch it from above the salty foam.
Satisfied with the innocent entrapment she opened her hands slowly to glimpse the iridescence. To her dismay the electric shimmer had vanished and instead the delicate dust now lay scattered across her outstretched palms.
She raised the butterfly desperately above her head, willing the flight to be resumed. But void of the precious dust, that brought both flight and such glamour, her prize drifted beneath a crashing wave. Although her love was as tangible and filled with colors as those wings, it shared the same fragility. And was forever fleeting.
Like strokes from a blind brush her hands unknowingly painted the stale blank canvas of her dress with butterfly dye. Transformed by this new palette, it was now in tune with the shades of her soul and she knew exactly what she had to do.
The dresses worn along her journeys smelled of wind, wrapped within stories of constellations, concealed by sea foam and tainted with hibiscus and frangipanis.
She turned, eager to begin the pursuit of a new perfection.