Coins have two sides. You can turn them over and over in your hands, you can see the two faces clearly. I can see the pallor of my face reflected in this one. Coins are a means of control... you can wrap the srings of a coin purse around most people, and they'll do what you want. Most people can be manipulated with one of two things: money and sex. I turn the coin over. If I hold it close to my face, I can see my own eye.
A candle is brief... snuffed out easily. A few words, whispered; a slight uncertainty, and anyone could put it out. The flame burns white, the heat purifying. I wonder if she was purified when she died - not that there was need for it. Diana, she was, just before she died, with smooth alabaster skin. Even in life, it was like she wore a death mask. Even if I hadn't whispered subtle poisons in his ear, would she still have been doomed to death?
This most important of tokens... white, pure fabric, spotted with blood red strawberries. If I were to hold it to my face, would it feel soft like skin? Once, I overheard that it was magic. I don't believe that. I don't believe anything. The fabric is so sheer that when held up to the light it is almost transparent. Nothing would escape notice if you looked through it. Even the most elaborate of lies would eventually be laid bare, if you looked at it through her handkerchief.
A memoir. If I were to open it, I'd find a lock of flaxen hair. It belonged to my wife - a common woman. It probably still smells of her. I don't have much to say about this.
It's me, split into pieces. I feel like if I leaned closer and touched it, I could see myself more clearly.
The smell of foliage is overwhelming. On the breeze, I can hear a gentle melody. I should go outside to hear it.O, Spartan dog,
More fell than anguish, hunger or the sea,Look on the tragic loading of this bed:This is thy work.The object poisons sight;Let it be hid.