There can be no integration of love and ambition, deception and clarity, compassion and war. So long as occupation and relationship are kept apart, so long will there be endless conflict and misery. All reformation within the pattern of duality is retrogression; only beyond it, is there creative peace.
— Krishnamurti, 1945
Livy stepped toward the full-length mirror to get a look at her outfit. Travel she thought, and looked at her face, her blue eyes, her small nose and full lips, framed by an oval face and shag cut auburn hair. Hair that curled down to her neck and conjured corinthian columns, beauty. She was like a lovely caryatid holding up the temple of beauty. She shook her head like a go-go girl and smiled, then moved her eyes down to her full and firm breasts squeezed by her halter top that left exposed the olive skin of her bare midriff which slid into her child-bearing hips that rounded into sleek, fountain pen legs, painted in blue jean.
“I’m glad I have such pretty feet,” she said to her reflection, “they should want some pictures of me for my column… if I went blonde and tousled it a bit, I’d be a dead ringer for Stevie Nicks.”
She picked up the phone and dragged it out on the patio.
“We need to do a photo shoot Rame.”
“Photo shoot of whom?” Ramie replied.
“Of me of course, what do you think of ‘Livy on the Continent’ or ‘Livy goes Continental’ as the title for my column,” she asked.
“You’re getting into this now, aren’t you? Let me think about it.”
“What’s to think about Rame. We could even use my middle name, Zhena, to spice it up a bit.
“Yeah I’m Russian on my mum’s side, all gypsy mysticism. She never talked about it much, she was a cold sort, but I got a lot out of my granddad before he died.”
“You see Rame, it’ll work. I’ve had a good response to my little bits in the magazine. More than some of the honchos. People like me, let’s do it up! You can start promoting it now and I’ll have your first piece in a few weeks.”
“How about Livy incontinent.” Ramie joked.
“C’mon lovey, I’m feeling good about this, humor me.”
“I don’t know if the man’s gonna go for this.”
“He’ll love it, deep down he loves me. He must. He’s given me a dream.”