:Not so Clockwork
The nurse had her name written in a tab. “Selene”. Anyone that could wrestle with the Western hieroglyphics could easily work out the name of that nurse. And as a very good friend of mine used to say, a name encloses the self. Yes, my reader, even if Shakespearian dramaturges argue that the name is anything but important. They are ignorant and I am nothing but the holder of truth. She was young; we could say if we, as an audience, could agree upon what youth is. Well, let us just simply say that she had seen few winters. Her body maladroitly stood on a stool, where she browsed for medical charts. She had her hair rolled up in a tight bun, and no make-up blemished the immaculate doll face. She, as many others, had gained her position because of her looks. The man that employed her only gazed at the becoming sweater seizing her curves and he, overcoming himself, gave her the job immediately. Let us just say that the man wanted to revolutionize the concept of Carpe Diem into something more like Carpe Corpus. Yes reader, desire is a governable, institutionalized concept in our so called modern world. Back to subject, our Selene would not be surprised if she caught with the corner of her eye the sight of the petty, bald man trying to gain a glimpse beneath the uniform. It happened, as most things do. Naturally and unstoppably.
The case is, my dear reader, that our friend Selene was looking for a chart to fill in. A new patient was to enter the institution that day and she was in charge of note him down. Every time a new patient came in, Selene’s back battered with strange, bizarre, outlandish feelings. She was not there to actually see any patients or to ask questions, no, she was not. As we have stated she was there to give the place a more…Sensual atmosphere. Sensuality is, indeed, a powerful weapon and a sudden charmer. She had no idea of what was done in that place, and she honestly did not want to find out. Her purpose was not to question but