Sometimes I think that at the destination waits a toothless lady. Other than her dental deficiency, there are no hints to betray her age. She is dressed in white and her silver hair lies still and heavy around her shoulders. She has overused golden thread; it glints everywhere, at her cuffs and collar and the little star and moon designs scattered across her dress. Her eyes are dark blue, like a slumbering sky or drugged sea. You look into them and are reminded how pleasant the last moment before sleep is, when submission is inevitable and strangely, desired.