About six years after the death of Don Juan, as Maggie and Marni were sharing an extremely small apartment that was barely a step above their places at the Shelter, was when Rotti Largo made his grand entrance. He had been in a minor, barely supporting role before, but it wasn't until Marni was twenty that his presence became better known to the girls. And although they didn't realize it at the time, the one that he seemed closer to would later be the one furthest from him, while the one that barely knew him would become his.
Life's simply ironic at its best.
Ironic in how relationships change.
In how people you don't know can end up being your love.
In how quickly fresh flowers can be simply cut off.
The last one was one of Magdalene Defoe's first impressions of the world of sight.
Yes, she knew that flowers were cut before, she knew that some were cut fairly early, but she had never actually seen it happen. She had merely heard the snip of the clippers, a faint brushing as the flower fell, but had never seen it as it fell, didn't see how the grass crushed and gave way against the suprisingly heavy, rounded petals.
It was an extremely intriguing process to watch, to say the least.
For some reason, Rotti seemed to be like a large-handled pair of scissors to her. And she couldn't figure out the reason why for the life of her. She made this observation one evening at a "benefit" concert to the new Zydrate Support Network. There was just something about him...
Marni, on the other hand, didn't see how he resembled scissors (or any other household appliance) at all, physically or otherwise. She simply loved him, though, arguably, in a somewhat half-blinded way.
Again, the ironies of life are sometimes too great to bear.