Her eyes were full with tears of solitariness. Her kinesics evinced the vexation of a pulverized boxer who has no puissance and valor left to face the world. She in the midst of that bland and brumal night freed herself from her ritzy raiments and jumped out of the window from her apartment. Her eyes were closed. She paroled her mortal self from all the lavish ardors of this world. Silence met silence. Solitude met solitude. Her claret ravaged carrion was reposing on the road in eternal placidity. There was a sardonic and slacken smile on her spiritless face yelling at the bystanders, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? LEAVE ME ALONE YOU SONS OF BITCHES. WHERE WERE YOU, WHEN MY BIPEDAL PNEUMA WANTED A ROADIE TO ANNIHILATE MY SOLITARINESS? WHERE WERE YOU, WHEN I WAS FLOUNDERING FOR THE LOVE, THE TOUCH, THE VERACIOUS PERCEIVE OF ETERNAL AFFINITY? AND NOW WHEN I ARDOR SOLITARINESS, I ARDOR CONGENIALITY, ALL OF YOU ARE HERE GAWKING AT MY NAKED CORPSE TO ASSUAGE YOUR CANNIBALISTIC SATYRIASIS FOR A FEMALE BODY. GO AWAY. I DON'T NEED ANY OF YOUR PRURIENCE STRICKEN EYES ON MY CORPSE. PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE."

But no one was hearing her imploring. How could they? The sonority of her immortal self was beyond the auditory adequacy of any mortal biped ear. She riveted at her spiritless body. How bucolic it looked. Gutsy, flaccid, exculpate!!! She felt a string of harrowing covetousness towards her dead self. She manumitted her sublunary existence; she provided her the congeniality it longed for. But now, here was her amaranthine self glutted with all her sublunary vexes, with all her aghast yearns, with all her living fears, with the brine of her macabre solitariness. It seemed to her as if all her living thwarts, her ambushes were left glutted to her anima. And they were agonizing her, agonizing her like never before. She was even more vulnerable in her new form. She couldn't divulge, couldn't caress, couldn't endure, couldn't argot and the worst of all she couldn't even yowl them off as she used to do all the time when she's alive. She could peg them, the throng, the world, everything, but they couldn't. What an adversity. Where would she go from here? To God, no, of course not, she would get disdained. WHERE? WHERE? WHERE? No one could tell her. She looked towards the empyrean, and, a mum, tear less, illimitable and unanswered ululate started to ferret its road to lacerate the abuttal of the mortal and the immortal world.