Pensive, her stare reflects who she is inside, a fragile, vulnerable woman in search of happiness. The proportion of her body obstructs her movements, she barely fits into any clothes her older sister lent her. No dressmaker in the village is willing to craft such gargantuan attires. Her mother has mocked her for her appearance, and inside she suffered.
The dainty traits of her face do not even match the corpulence of her body. Today she wears her brother’s blouse. She has fashioned an apron with fabric she found in the back of her wardrobe. Creative and bold, Perniletta had to imagine stratagems to ignore insensitive discourses about her physique. Even strangers have commented on her manly hands, and inside she suffered.
When she puts her hair in a Victorian style bun, she feels like a queen. Her face made up and earrings dangling from her petite earlobes, she trots around the house, accomplishing her chores, thinking she is a butterfly. She dreams of escaping and travelling on a boat around the world. The wind will caress her face and blow her hair into the sky, and inside she will smile.