Valerie

enters the gallery
with immortality on her mind.
How to achieve it?
Also, she's troubled by her meagre salary
(yes, she's well aware that lesser mortals
consider £90,000 per annum
to be a tidy sum).
She has many concerns.
Should she update her sexuality?
Would that make her more interesting
in the marketplace? Should she
be the sort of person who lives by
her own morality or follow a set code?
She considers a piece of art (is it art?)
that makes her think of egg yolks
and sunshine but also raises jagged thoughts:
was her childhood boiled eggs with soldiers
and eternal sunshine? Was her mum kind?
She honestly doesn't know
and now she has a splitting headache.
Immortality? Salary? Sexuality? Morality?
Enough! She needs some air.
She exits the gallery.
The sun is out.
She offers her hand to a young woman.
'I'm Valerie,' she says. 'I've just come out 
of the gallery.'