11.15

I'm a Prussian lady, clothed in Prussian blue. My skin is open to the blood-red sky, crimson-tinged, sanguine. I'm sad, roughly sad, unlovely sad. I chose my clothes for sadness, but the day has trashed my plans. My deep-sea clothing fades, and I love myself by chance. Tomorrow, I think I will be ochre. And after, perhaps green. One day, I will find how to overcome red. But I know that today, my chance is dead.