I can see your bones, just under your skin. It's beautiful.
And a patch of red under the shadow of navy blue sleeve cuffs. It's brilliant.
I can spot a rough-edged nail, bitten down to the quick. Elegant.
And white, glossy scars, peeking out from beneath the layers and screens. Artistic.
I can see satin finery, gleaming under the spotlight. Artificial.
And a spot of rosy rouge on each cheek. Garish.
I can spot a perfectly manicured hand, polish sparkling. Crude.
And smooth, unblemished skin, showcased for the world to see. Ruined.
Burlap exchanged for silk.
Pain exchanged for bliss.
Worries exchanged for pleasure.
Error exchanged for perfection.
Person replaced by plastic.
Reality replaced by illusion.
Smiles replaced by words.
Secrets replaced by walls.
Brave imperfection switched with imperfect idealistic beauty.
Your choice.
Messy or pretty?
Doomed or exalted?
Satisfaction or happiness?
Challenging storms or smooth sailing?
Burning fire or numbing anesthesia?
Prosecutor Edgeworth chooses death.