[sitting in front of her enormous and bizarre dressing table, scratched around by undefined hands, she sees her mirrored face. It looks unusually revolting. She squeezes her cheeks with the dry palms of her hands and reveals a breathless feeling. She jumps up and with lightning-swift steps reaches the old chest she has inherited, flings it open and messes up her grannie’s old-fashioned clothes and petticoats. She looks at them attentively and takes off her clothes. She lets a thin and gaudy petticoat slip on her body and girds her neck with an ostrich feather boa forgotten by a dancer a few days before. Sitting back in front of the mirror, she opens her make-up chest and paints her white face with blue eyeshadow and blood-red lipstick. She stands up again and decides to spread the lipstick beyond her lips to her neck and down her dress; she loosens her dark hair and excessively marks the mole on the right of her mouth. She lights up a cigarette. All night long she’s going to dance alone]