She comes from foreign lands

The sound of silence echoes through the walls. Chloe is on the naked wooden floor in my room, flipping through the pages of an Italian fashion magazine from the 60s. "How is it possible to miss a time you didn't even live in", she sighs, running her slender fingers over a black and white picture of Penelope Tree. I tell her I never do but I'm lying. I don't know why but my mind is elsewhere, and those hypothetical discussions about what life could have been like, "if only...", usually end in strange places.

Chloe looks up at me for a second, then returns to her magazine. If nothing else she looks fantastic in her little Calvin Klein nightgown. Transparency is my favorite color.

Dolly Rocker Girl