There were lights and shrieks. Flashes and voices. Blood. All around. Small streams of red meandering substance, which was slowly and stealthily eating away her essence. It rose like blinding fumes from inside her, enveloping the many-headed emotions that she once nurtured with care. She knew she had seen ages passing in her head. She knew her spirit could never be tamed. She knew she was strong enough. But something stronger had overpowered her by then. Love. May be that was what it was named by them. May be she had been infatuated with its perfumed surface for so long that the creases in the insides were safely tucked away from her sight then, and now, it was these creases and tucks that grew branches and roots and weaved her many-headed emotions in its leaves. She will have to steer through the bloody streams soon. … before it swallows the perfume and creases and her many-headed womanhood one day.