![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFw_7PZnfswwEonNLyaH-ObO-AptTdi1_0YeuHbFuGsgbcfrlihWTNdZhIfF0HFAu_dY7lkNPuyQLCaTfrcKtJUQS8VpzFHf_uMPdHzbxbmzuHGubkCtHLps4ZV6BoGk1oEhAoSA/s400/Analect2.384x.jpg)
12 November 2008. Sun hidden within hillside mist, gray terciopelo, softly...
Europa and beyond. A stiff pose, borrowed from some unknown queen, pretending in turn--Velasquez, Goya, Chardin--turning away from furrowed fields in a spate of pride--to rule--her unholy tiara, all stolen jewels...
A Mataiea princess--Fatata te Miti--by a quartz blue sea, the rolling breakers, arriving, leaving...
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