We liked her much and her universal self. She carried her transience about her as if it was a long flowing toga .For her transience was a settled matter, of evolution, in Darwin and burlesque. Just a comedy of sorts, full of sarcasm. Surely the world was made in her kitchen and apparently he could not make a fine job.
When she laughed it was at him. Not that she was afraid of him, except in the spirit-smell of a buttocks- injection when she had a creepy feeling in her belly. Things seemed to happen by a beyond-logic one failed to nail down.
Everything got mixed, things and words ,stewed in an orange light, an unreality, being light up there, the force of gravity low. Above all this woman thing was God-like ,the mother of all, who suffered for children, who have once lived in her puffed- up belly and for strange men she met in the corridor.