She has become quite a good artist. Painting her way through the world so everywhere she looks there are colors as widespread as the spectrum visible to the mantis shrimp. Her greatest piece of work: herself. Her shoulders pressed back; her back perfectly perpendicular to the earth; her lips turned up by the strings of a puppeteer. She could have tricked most into believing she was Pharrell Williams - happy - had it not been for her eyes: weak, watered, tired, teased by the fantasy world she has created around her. The mask has become her skin, the only one she feels comfortable in. Held on by epoxy. If only she could learn to paint in black and blue.