It’s dark and stiff inside, and it’s frightening to think what comes next. Sahring our breaths we wait. Peril or Victory. She leads us—woman-goddess with her mystic spell—we all will perish nonetheless… of pain, or of love, or of bloody wounds… The time has stopped and doesn’t allow for freedom. It pounds the temples alike a drum. With her golden skin and the smell of her hair, the thoughts are ready to give in with the last breath.