Scantly clad in the middle of the night the elusive tartlet takes flight. She binds her hands around a son’s, pursuing ill-willed determination – dancing in dark snow along the forested streets. Drenched in red, wine flows from mouth to mouth, inhaling sharply, dark lungs sing deep songs of love. Innocence lost on the edge of his humanity, giving all he has to unprocurable women. Staring intensely, searching for a purity unpalatable to the untrained tongue. “I’m a cactus tree.” Her thorns are sharp but survival is in her hollow and full essence. Beware of the elusive tartlet.