Despite being adorned with the trappings of high society, I am most incomplete. Albeit heavy layers of lace skirts are quite fitting of a girl with a heavy heart, French dresses and Italian coiffeurs are not a luxury, no, but rather my trappings and suits of woe! No Petersburg party nor noble acquaintance has given me no more than a gentle stir, for the whole of the scene is bland - sincerity is suffocated by manners that no aristocrat dares to abandon. My husband himself is a politician in both life and love - a perfect embodiment of all that is wrong with our contrived lifestyles. His one-track mind allows no room for emotion. Oh, how I used to love him! Cannot he but once love me back? In a world so mundane, slogging through snow toward my Moscow-bound train, a new life came into my sight. I passed my eyes across travelers. Fur-coated and flushed-faced all, they whirred by in an inconspicuous blur. So unexpecting was I when a man captured my attention with his warm disposition without but turning his face! How he comprehended my unhappiness from a mere glance is incomprehensible indeed, but nonetheless, he apprehended my melancholy and resulting desires. His eyes responded in deep brown resplendency, calling “fulfillment, fulfillment fulfillment!” A blizzard stormed through the station, shaking carriages and passengers, blowing up disorder in magnificent gusts of snow. With feet sunk in snow and spirit shooting to the heavens, my existence seemed surreal. My adornments now are incandescent eyes, burning cheeks, tingling body, and a heart beating with the resoluteness and purpose of a revolutionary drum. The entirety of my disposition was in ecstasy.