You know, Mopey might be on to something, here. If there was anything even vaguely similar to love to be found in her innerspace, it surely wouldn’t be anywhere outside of the furthest, darkest, most secluded and most heavily secured corner of the whole thing. Which probably comes as a surprise to no one – or was there really anybody who had expected the interior of Mopey’s soul to be overflowing with sunlight, floaty glowing hearts and wellsprings of happy, pink flowers?
No, it’s naturally an elegantly monochromatic place – bordering on non-chromatic, actually. And Mopey is definitely standing right in front of its most secluded and most heavily secured corner. The sheer size and unnecessary complexity of that vault door leaves little doubt in that regard, since that is a well-established visual clue to that sort of thing. Sure, theoretically there could be a second, even larger vault door somewhere else in her soul, but let’s face it – that would just be gauche. One is acceptable and even kind of classy.
But will there be anything of note to be found behind that unnecessarily impressive portal? You can be sure there will! The sad trajectory of Geraldo Riviera’s career has taught a valuable lesson to me, and to anybody who was paying attention. >_>
More on Monday.