Day Eight: In Which She Angers a Young Woman By Simply Looking

My very dear Jane —

Words fail me.



The young man seemed perfectly respectable. He was attired in the casual style so much favoured by the young here; but tidy and clean & softly spoken. Whatever could motivate him to dig such a large hole out of his ear, pierce the bridge of his nose and push a SPIKE through his lower lip? His female companion likewise seemed ordinary enough, but one must respect her bravery, if not her judgment, in hoping for an amorous relationship. A courageous woman indeed, to dare to kiss that mouth!

The second young woman astonished me and I daresay I could not take my eyes off her, tho' I must confess it very ill-mannered. She did glower at me for daring to look! But, upon my honour! t'was was impossible to look away! Her clothing was most extraordinary ... a dirty, frayed flouncy skirt over grubby leggings and bright red "basketball" boots.

But more peculiar than that ... what manner of creature leaves her hair unwash'd till it forms gigantic spiralling rat's-tails & puts rings thru her nose & pierces her lip to leave a nail's-head behind? &, having chosen to bedeck herself in this most unwholesome and unusual garb, why should she become angered when persons are amazed enough to stare? One would think that, by this, her objective would be fulfilled.

It grows ever more lonely and strange here,
love from your own,

Day Seven: In Which a Carefully-placed Handkerchief Serves as Clothing

My dearest Jane —

Today I saw an attractive young lady on Reading Station who was naked from the waist up, save for a strategically positioned handkerchief and an elegant design on her back. (To be fair, 'twas a rather large handkerchief, but that is indeed all it was).

The two gentlemen walking ahead of me and just behind her were most delighted at the vision thus placed before them. I believe one of them was having difficulty breathing, he wheezed at every step, and all the more so when she turned and smiled at him!

The design on her back, by-the-bye, was permanently marked on her skin in the manner of Savages from far-flung Islands. Such markings or "tattoos" (for so they are called) is all the rage amongst the populace ... young and old alike have inky inscriptions in various colours and degrees of tastefulness marked on their wrists, to serve as permanent bracelets or as marks of affection to their loved ones on their arms. The young lady's pictures were surprizingly nice, but many such seem little more than ugly scratchings.

Even more alarming is the peculiar habit of Piercing their skin - noses, ears, cheeks, even tongues. It looks most uncomfortable. I have seen the most horrific disfigurement done in the name of fashion. I cannot yet bring myself to draw these sights, it is still all too disturbing.

I did think the preposterous sights would soon diminish, dearest Jane. Perhaps in time, they will.

with much love from your troubled sister,

Day Six: In which a gentleman performs ablutions best done in private

My dearest Jane —

I shan't have you thinking that I limit my observations to merely the young & silly.

This middle-aged, rather smartly dressed gentleman could have stepped from the pages of your own Sense & Sensibility. He was engrossed in his own book, utterly oblivious to the world as it swarm'd past him; he reamed his ear in search of imperfections, carefully withdrew the digit for a deep perusal of the results of his efforts, and then re-inserted said digit for another dig.

Most astonishing. And, given his range of rather expensive-looking accoutrements, I am sure he considers himself a man of Taste and Refinement.

And whilst I ponder on ears, do you recall my earlier missive in which I mentioned the corks that people put in their ears, to shut out the dreadful noisiness of this place? Well, it seems I was mistaken in their intent. 'Tis not to shut out noise, rather, it is to introduce new noise. I learned this because the dangling wires are connected to an ingenious device, like a tiny pump, that spews out this noise. It is rhythmic, to be sure, and although they claim it is music, I am not so certain. This sound often "leaks" from their corks and all one can hear is a grinding and clammering, such as you would hear at a miller's or perhaps a combination of the millstones and the hammerings of the blacksmith. It is most curious. My head quite thumps most days from the multitude of loud engines already. I am most unclear on why they would chuse to introduce yet more.

with love from your sister,

Day Five: in which a variety of Summer Footwear is contrast'd

My dearest Jane —
Although the weather is uncommonly warm, it seems to matter little when it comes to the manner in which people are shod. All these little sketches are from the same day, and, indeed are all the feet of Young Women, soldier's and workmen's boots as well.

The soldier's boots were particularly handsome, very heavy black leather with brass plates marching down the front. Perfect for marching in the snow!

The little slippers, called "flip-flops" -- apparently from the flapping noise they make when one strides about -- are far more appropriate to the season, but seem singularly ill-suited for ladylike pursuits (such as walking!) They are, however, perfect for displaying an array of colours on one's toe-nails. Bright shiny red toe varnish is the favourite, but I have also seen various shades of pink, blue and even black! The black did give me quite a start ... the poor girl's feet looked bruised, as if she dropp'd a weight on her toes!

And as for bruised toes, what think you of the winkle-pickers? One can only imagine the agony of shape-changing this creature's feet must suffer when they are at last released from their sword-shaped prison!

With love and amusement, your sister,

Day Four, where Modesty & Immodesty meet

My dearest Jane —

These apparitions are, in truth, the most ordinary of young women. The Left One seems to have taken orders in a convent but rather strangely painted herself like a tuppenny-ha'penny ... woman, and thereby spoilt her otherwise modest attire.

The Other has gone outdoors without even a shift to cover her knees! And if ever did one of our sex need covering, this one surely does. The fabric of her scanty garment is so thin as to reveal every nuance of her figure. Young she may be, but girlishly slender she most certainly is not!

I find my handkerchief in constant use as I struggle in vain to hide my blushes and retain my composure. If only you were here, dear sister, a story would soon emerge to explain the irrationality of this ever-so-peculiar behaviour!

With love from your sister,