Roses on film, floral scented sheets and pastel pink fingers. One evening, she sat in front of her reflection in the white leather mirror and cut off all her hair. She didn't know why she was doing it, but it felt good. The air smelled like the incensts she was burning, dragon rosewood. All her books were thrown on the floor, the classic literature, the memoirs, the biographies and the photography magazines. She even threw her white bed on the floor in attempt to make a tree fort inside-- a place to escape and be alone with her books. Everything was pastel in the dollhouse. She kept her bedroom like your favorite Polly Pocket doll.