I dreamed last night of a Prince that wood me and proposed himself to me, hat in his hand. I said yes, and he looked at me, eyes wide at the disrespect. But he laughs and says to me with smiling eyes: “your highness” - amazed at my oversight.
In that moment I see what in this wedding will be asked of me. A life of servitude and duty. I take a step back from this prince
- and find myself back in my student flat, with my friends, regretting the king I turned away. Growing old and cold and tired, missing the grace of his love and the sunlight of his esteem. “What have I done?” My friends look at me, their eyes tired by too many un-reaped days, unspent love laying heavy on their faces.