Montana appeared, as if by chance, in a forgotten garden.
Not to confer with nature —
Simply because, the lighting is much nicer out here.
She looks for a muse, but she is it.
Her Dalmatian follows. Naturally.

Together, with her delicate sense of the world, they have arrived with the afternoon. 
The flowers sigh beneath her.

Is it fashion, or a feeling?
No matter, she wears both.
Verdure by Muma.

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