Carefully crossing the tight rope thread, they dare not look down or look around only straight ahead. At the other end lies a deep brooding girl seemingly one foot high, crouched down, she cannot stand. Pausing, and gasping her breath they attempt to maintain their balance. In doing such an act, forced to look below, they are suspended above what is clearly a dark pool, reflecting back to them three beauties-carefully captured confidences.
Aside a slender, supercilious spectator starts to shake their thread with his gaze challenging the very precarious entity that prevents them from a fall greater than death itself. One of the beauties reaches, dividing herself from her whole by, in desperation holding out her hand to him. He grasps with greedy, delight to the outstretched quivering hand. The hum, turns into a loud buzzing sound making the lord and ladies of baroque gargantuan clasp, cold hands to startled ears blocking this disturbing sound disrupting their equilibrium maintained through the voyeuristic pleasure before their eyes.
The other two beauties, trying desperately to bring her back, back to balance, but she is feeling a strange delight in being drawn close to this magnanimous man. He, has an impervious spirit, strong, but as straight as an arrow. To him, these bees, together- voluptuous. Only one is drawn towards him, he begins to see how alone she is valetudinarian and through one, all three at once can be vanquished. ‘Maybe I can be munificent’ he manages her thoughts, but slowly, she begins to realise her lack of power within one. Too late, he feels enraptured by her subservience, she guilty, obstinately gives more realising her belie. He intransigent to his emotions, she lugubriously lays below the two once elated now she: elegiac.