"I hate harp music," she mumbled to herself. "And this naked kid with the wings, I just want to slap him away, but that wouldn't go over very well. I don't need him to hold my book and what's with the wings? Both of them have wings. Aren't they supposed to hide those things? Maybe I'm just in a bad mood. I'm supposed to marry someone I don't even know. Well, I won't do it. I'm going to run away. And what is that harp player looking at? She seems mean. I mean blue wings. Really? I don't care what anyone has to say, I don't want to get married. I want to hang glide and go to rock concerts. And I don't ever want kids. I mean this one is cute, but still, naps, baths, wing cleaning? It makes me tired just to think about it. I feel dead inside. Always told what to do. Always expected to obey. I hate all of it. I'll go to the new world, once it's discovered and cities are built. And these flowers on my head! They should be blue to match whatever this cloth draped over me is for. I mean pink is a nice color but I like my flowers to match the cloth. I want to wear jeans and a t-shirt, but everyone would drop dead the second they saw me. Culture is so controlling. Do this, do that. I want to be free. And look how crowded it is where I'm sitting. Squashed between the naked kid and the blue-winged harp player. We have the entire castle, patio, garden, and world but we're on top of each other. And I'm NOT changing the kid's diaper. Not in a million years. Let the harpist do it. Look at my face. Do I LOOK happy? I'm, being GIVEN to one man from another. I'm not doing it. Tonight, when everyone is sleeping, I'll go. I'm not sure where I'll go, since I've never been out, or alone in my entire life, but I'll go anyway. The harpist is really starting to bug me. The look on her face is so terrible. She's probably mean and nasty. I just have to hold on for a few more hours and then I'll be free. This kid's wings are so small. I hope they grow along with him. Who is he anyway? Probably one of my father's "accidents." Maybe the harpist is one of them too. It wouldn't surprise me in the least. I'll run down to the kitchen and put some food into a bag, then get on my horse and ride away. Then, when I'm gone, maybe my face will look happy and not like it looks now. I'll wear pants and the shirt I took from the stable boy. I'll cut off my hair and everyone will think I'm a boy. I may have to disappear the harpist. She feels threatening and I don't like her. I don't trust her at all. I mean look at her. Then look at me. I look like a thing, not a person. That's how I've been treated...like a think to be manipulated. Well, no more."
"I'm freezing to death, standing her naked, holding a bunch of pages for this over privileged woman. I don't think she likes me. And she probably thinks this white drape I'm dressed in, is a diaper. Horrifying. And this terrible music. A gerbil running on the strings would make better music. I can't wait until my wings grow out. I can't even fly with these. I weigh too much. Do I look happy? Look at my face. Is that a happy face? It is not. The flowers in her hair should be blue and if the music doesn't stop soon, I'm going to cry. I just want to live in the woods with a dog and read mysteries. I am not a cherub, I am not an angel. I'm a very angry child with wings being forced to stand here and listen to this screeching sound."
"Maybe should have taken harp lessons. I never saw a harp until twenty minutes ago, but they seem to like my music, so I must be a natural. I get the feeling pink flower girl doesn't like me. But it's my job to be here, we don't have to be friends. And where did the kid with the wings come from? He's cute and all but really, what is his actual purpose? And my fingers hurt from pulling on these strings. I want to sit down with a cup of coffee and a cigarette, read a magazine and then go to bed. I guess that's too much to ask. I think she's going to run away tonight. I'm not going to stop her. Let her see what the outside world is like. I doubt she'll sit under a Bodhi tree like Siddhartha. No one follows women. She won't go on to start a sexist religion and be fed by others, or maybe she will, who knows. I am so tired of playing this harp. The kid should be in bed. My arms hurt too. I wonder if anyone noticed that my wings are blue. I dyed them myself. I think they look cool. They aren't to everyone's taste, of course, but I like them and that's all that matters. I think the pink flowered person wants to kill me. Not sure why, but I'm getting all sorts of bad vibes from her and the naked winged thing isn't happy either. Maybe I'll just stop playing and get out of here while I can."
Photo: Europeana
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