"The gentle sun drips off of her hair like so many delicate drips of dribbling nectar out of the sweet throats of a thousand honey dews blossoming strong and bright with an energy that shines out of her liquid eyes and sparkles from her cuticles, her fingertips. Her face is as radiant as a field of dying wildflowers exploding into supernovas across a green night sky with its light boring into my own black hole of a soul as their strongest radiance glows reaching across the distances of cold space into my visual cortex. Her hair frames a picture that not even Vincent could have pictured in the depths of his acutest despairs and brightest fantasies all mixed together in one galaxy spiral of a swirl. Her cheeks, her silken lips are softer than that field in the gentle grip of a latter adolescent spring just becoming truly sentient of its warmth and beauty. Her nose, her chin, her lines of jaw make a simple sketch displaying a not so simply explained splendor more mysterious than that of the spiral all golden."