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The Novelist is naked. His body is strong. He has removed his clothes and left them in the corner of the room. He also removes all the furniture from the room. His skin is left sticky to touch from the labour. Certain muscles have a reddish glow from erythema. He is tired now, but has work to do. He has something he wants to write. It is a design for perfect living.

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The Invited is naked. Her body is weak. She floats into her wardrobe. It is full of colour in here. The colour bleeds itself over several white maxi dresses. These are her paintings, on her dresses. She flicks through the hangers, eyeing each choice carefully. One is picked and she covers herself with it. She has the feeling she was meant to be somewhere, but knows she won’t make it now. Instead she spends most of the day attending to her skin. Cleansing, toning and massaging it until she has erythema.

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