She was not much in fashion, she loved the free and easy life.
No dictation, no coercion, by none.
She loved her simple useful clothes and wore them until they fell apart.
Old and faded colors...
But every time when she met a new love, she bought a new scarf.
She chose the colors in matching with the feeling.
Often the scarfs were in red tones, when she was inflamed with love.
But there were also muted tones, shy, tender.
Or dark. With stripes in it.
She has so much love in her live.
This made her rich.
Without the expectation of being loved in return, but that's why it succeeded mostly.
Sometimes she looks at the stack of scarves and each of them is a memory.
Alive.
Almost as good as new.
