masked women... they are like gifts still unwrapped, waiting for the ribbon to be pulled and the paper torn open... they are hot-blooded half-truths, sudden super-heroes, cinematic pauses, glinting hints of hazard, cryptic codes, slowly swelling silences, she-wolves and pussycats... and i think there is nothing hotter than the heat of the eyes and the mystery of the mask, and that everything on the face grows bigger because of the mask—especially the mouth and the teeth... that soft pouting pink, that sharp bright white. everything at once becomes delicate and dangerous, dreamy and dark...
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