She entered the stage, and I was stunned by her dress.

Threaded by a million hands,

It must have taken decades—I’m sure of it!

No jewel could outshine its gleam,

No silken dream could match its theme.

It moved with such enchanting grace.

I wondered why her neck was wrapped in a diamond chain so tight.

I could only see her eyes.

When I looked deep into them, I saw nothing!

Was the grip of her chain so firm that even her eyeballs couldn’t move?

She walked like a cat but slower than a snail,

The weight of the dress and the tightness of the chain seemed unbearable.

I could see her fragility, but the audience was well satisfied.

The claps were louder than the roar of the sea.

Nobody cared about her shivering hands.

I was eager to focus my camera on her soul.

Then she made a noise,

A mixture of a scream and laughter.

She bent over, hands clutching her head.

She pulled out some pins, and the dress began to whirl down.

Now, I could see her eyes blinking.

No more cheering from the crowd.

I felt the coldness in my camera hand.

She stood up, trembling like a newborn lamb.

Then she slipped one hand inside the chain and shook her head.

I saw her brown, boy-cut hair.

Her lips were painted with the boldest red tint.

Her nose ring, sharp like an obsidian blade.

She stood tall and looked into the camera like an angry tigress.

My heartbeat rose, pounding harder than ever.

She walked in her high heels,

One hand still clutching her neck.

I zoomed in and saw the scratches, starting to bleed.

She began to walk again, like the big cat.

I clicked; even the camera stand started to tremble.

Now I could see her eyes,

Shining like the deepest pearl freed from its shell.

Her hand, red with blood, gripped her neck.

She kept walking, even after the ramp,

She kept walking, even after the ramp...