Scheherazade can no longer stand by and watch this unremitting waste of potential. Every day the king condemns a brilliant girl to a life of drudgery, suppressing her probing analytic mind and sending a broken spirit back into a mundane world. It cannot go on. It will not go on. Scheherazade has a plan.
In the ornate space of her boudoir, she rests her hand on her lap. Her eyes are perfectly black-lined with the seamless effort of her steady hand. She is graceful, calm and collected. Trembling with worry and apprehension would have spoiled her makeup and her plan.
Boundless as the Universe, she’s unhindered by indignation, protest or apology. In the imposed narrowness of life and opportunities, she’s not suffering or longing, but being and experiencing. Only then can her story be told and her genius be delivered in its entirety and its wholesomeness.
She will face the kings and play out her admirable design. With her wit and vigour, bound they shall be to her orbit.
A captivating thinker and expressionist, she is Scheherazade.