a story in gold

I transcribed one of Sean’s goodnight stories onto a gold dress in gold ink:

 “‘A book? I love books. How delightful.’ Said the Queen.” – so goes Sean’s delightful adult fairy tale. It’s one of my very favorite stories of Sean’s, but the next night he topped it with an even better goodnight story. Like penning gold over gold. 

In the daylight the words on the gown are obvious, but at night they disappear into the sheen and I fear the ink has dissolved. I’d love a golden nightdress that bears new stories every morning when I awaken, as if a silent scribe had scribbled his calligraphic ribbon around and around me as I slept. 

The stories would start on my sleeve, where I rest my head; the first thing I see when I open my eyes. I’d work my way to my elbow, my shoulder, the bodice, then read upside-down the length of the skirt to my toes. Then I’d turn the page by turning my body within the dress, taking my arms out, spinning the garment around, and reading the back from collar to toe. I’d love a book whose pages are turned by turning my naked body inside of it. 

Stories are the best embellishment.

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