Designer: Manikka
Resources: 1 2 3

In times like these, I feel the need to confide in my selfish, self-absorbed words..prompted by the vanity of disappearing into my exaggerated reality.

Because what I haven't got can't compare to what I swore I found once before; and the curtains kept shut like iron cloth don't show any signs of letting me onstage. I am detached and helpless..useless, really, like that sad porcelain doll kept atop a dusty old shelf.

She's a little more than those rag dolls and wooden puppets, but colder, for that very reason..preserved and polished and void of human touch! Empty and carelessly thrown into a glass casing of neglect; lacking sensation, stricken off the billing, kept at a safe distance -as dead as any organism can get, woman, dead! And unable to rot; forbidden to live and unable to die!!

So she sits atop that rickety plank of wood, watching and hoping that the others get through their acts just right..she can't do much more than that. She would. But she can't. She can't seem to find her way down; such ideas were never presented to her, the option of asking to be given a second glance. She is a porcelain doll, untouchable and unable to touch and feel even the splinter of a wooden puppet's kiss..but in times like these, the thread by the edge of her dress will find reason to unravel..in times when that old wooden puppet's strings snap.
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