#anna maria cottage

[vacationcottagesami]

Beach House Anna Maria Island FL

Anna Maria Beach house rentals, anna maria island rentals with pool, anna maria island beach cottages, beach house anna maria island fl, tickled pink cottage Holmes beach.

[rramirentals]

Anna Maria Island Vacation Rental Homes

Escape to paradise with this charming 3-bedroom vacation home on Anna Maria Island, Florida. Nestled just a short stroll from the pristine white sandy beaches, this home offers the perfect blend of comfort and luxury. Each bedroom is tastefully decorated, providing a serene retreat after a day of sun and fun. The spacious living area is ideal for family gatherings, featuring cozy seating and a large flat-screen TV for movie nights. The fully equipped kitchen boasts modern appliances, making meal prep a breeze. Step outside to the private backyard oasis, complete with a sparkling pool and plenty of seating for outdoor dining or lounging. Whether you’re sipping your morning coffee on the patio or enjoying a sunset swim, this vacation home promises relaxation and unforgettable memories. Conveniently located near local shops, restaurants, and attractions, it’s the perfect base for exploring all that Anna Maria Island has to offer.

[reddest-flower]

In Gulinka, a village overnight by train from Moscow plus a two-hour walk through the mud, there was no reason for rushing the election. But Maria Kurkina, the village President, thought the holidays on the anniversary of the Revolution offered an excellent chance to hold both an election and an Old Home Week. "We are rather a backward village," she said. "We have only a four-year school and frightful roads and no electricity yet. But we've stirred up in these past four years a lot of public spirit that is ready for great achlevements. Most of us have not seen the world and don't know the many things there are to get. Yet from our backward Gulinka no less than fifty people have gone to honorable tasks in our Soviet country- some engineers, an army commander, a doctor, a surveyor, an assistant editor, the foremen of the marten ovens in Stalingrad, many promislng students and several other notables. Let us invile them to tell us what is this Soviet power and what it offers. Let them tell us the shortcomings of our Gulinka, that we may know how to instruct our Deputies; then we shall be behind nobody in all new blessings there are to acquire."

Every one in the village thought the idea splendid, and as there was no opposing voice President Kurkina went to the township election commission and asked that commissioners be sent to see that Gulinka's election was held properly. "All your grain deliveries in?" asked the township commission. "Potato deliveries too? No village campaigns unfinished? No work which the outgoing Soviet has still to do? Then hold it when you like; it's your affair. Have you made your report yet ?" "Made it and printed it, and every one has discussed it," Kurkina replied proudly, producing a neat little folder, My Report to the Voters. Such reports, though not always printed, are made by all Soviet officials to their constituents. The reports, telling how the instructions given at the previous election have been carried out, must be discussed at least a week before the voting so that the election meeting may confine itself to candidates.

Kurkina's report was homely enough in its detalla. Nowhere in its sixteen printed pages did she brag of her own work; nowhere did she ask for votes. She told of great improvements in the village and described how they were accomplished.

"During your daily work you hardly notice how life is changing," President Kurkina's report began. But when you look back to sum up these four years you note a very great difference in our life, our village and our people. Many new brick houses replace the broken huts, A radio central rereiver gives Moscow conoerto to our homes. Outside the villago great brick structures are rising- the slables, barns and granaries of our collective farms. Cottage windows that formerly frightened one by their blackness are bright with flowers and white curtains People also are changing. The children of former farmhands become doctors , engineers, commanders."

The Voice of the Soviet Village, Anna Louise Strong (1935)

[elsalouisa]

"To enter the School of the Imperial Ballet is to enter a convent whence frivolity is banned, and where merciless discipline reigns. Every morning at eight, the solemn tolling of a big bell would put an end to our sleep. We dressed under the stern eyes of a governess, whose duty it was to see that all hands were kept perfectly clean, all nails in good trim, and all teeth carefully washed. When we were ready, we went to prayers, which were sung by one of the older pupils in front of an ikon underneath which a tiny flickering lamp was burning like a little red star. At nine, breakfast—tea, bread and butter—was served, and immediately afterwards the dancing lesson began.

We were all gathered in a big room, very high and well lit. There was no furniture except a few benches, a piano, and enormous mirrors. The walls were decorated with portraits of Russia’s sovereigns. After the small novices’ lesson, the elder, more advanced pupils had their turn, and the beginners withdrew to another room, where they pursued their work. At twelve the bell rang for lunch, after which we were taken out for a walk. Then more exercises until four o’clock, and then dinner. After dinner we enjoyed a period of leisure. Then came fencing lessons, music lessons, and from time to time rehearsals of dances which were to be performed on the stage of the Maryinsky Theatre. When we children had to appear in a ballet, we were taken to the theatre in great, well-closed cars. Supper used to be at eight, and an hour later we were sent to bed. On feast days were were taken to one of the Imperial Theatres: at times to the Theatre Michel, to see French plays performed by the French artists belonging to the Imperial company.

The most exciting days in our well-ordered life were those when the Emperor paid a visit to the school. In those times the imperial family used to mark their interest in the school by frequent visits. And then, to please the Empress, the children would perform a ballet on the school’s little stage. I can remember that one day, when I was a little girl, the Emperor Alexander and the Empress Maria, with other members of the imperial family, came to see one of those performances. At the end of the ballet we were allowed to go into the auditorium. The Czar took my little comrade, Stanislava Belinskaya, in his arms. He was so kind-hearted and unaffected, in all respects a true Russian! At that very instant I burst into tears. Naturally I was asked why I wept. And between two sobs I replied, with tears trickling fast down my cheeks: “I want the Emperor to take me into his arms too!’ Grand Duke Vladimir, in order to comfort me, took me upon his knee. But I was not satisfied, and went on weeping and repeating, “I want the Emperor to kiss me!” The Grand Duke laughed heartily. After the performance, the imperial family would come to the dining-room and have tea with us. We were not in the least embarrassed by their presence. The Emperor and Empress were so kind, so very much like a kind father and mother, that we were quite at ease with them, and altogether content.

Every Sunday my mother came to see me; and I used to spend all my holidays with her. During the summer we always lived in the country. We grew so fond of our little holiday cottage, that even now we have not the heart to give it up in favour of some more comfortable abode".

Anna Pavlova "Pages of my life"

[amiluxury]

5-Star Vacation Rentals Anna Maria Island

Do you intend to plan a vacation in a luxury rental accommodation in Florida? Find AMI Luxury Accommodations offering the best-in-class 5-Star Vacation Rentals Anna Maria Island. Our luxury vacation rentals are more than only a holiday space; they epitomize a unique fusion of seamless comfort and luxury with adventure! As we thoroughly understand the distinct requirements and desires of our clients, we specially customize the top-notch portfolio of opulent vacation rentals that portray unrivaled style, comfort, and sophistication. Our 5-star rental properties include charming seaside cottages and spectacular beachfront villas that are well-resourced with futuristic design trends of coastal living.

[anitabyars]

Description

Set against the Bridgerton-era backdrop of Regency London, Anna Bradley’s witty and sexy new trilogy sets fiercely alpha dukes against the duchesses who are determined to transform their delinquent husbands by any means necessary. A delight for fans of Mary Jo Putney, Sabrina Jeffries, Ella Quinn, Diana Quincy and Julia Quinn.

One should never judge a duke by his cover. As far as London society knows, Giles Drew, the Duke of Basingstoke, is everything a proper aristocrat ought to be. But when a notorious scandal sheet publishes details of Giles’s questionable bedroom antics, only one bride can salvage his reputation.

Prim and penniless, Francesca Stanhope has resigned herself to a season full of the ton’s snickering—until the Duke of Basingstoke’s dizzying courtship transforms her fate. Yet wedded bliss quickly turns into a clash of wills as Franny realizes her handsome duke is a devil in disguise.

But beneath the newlywed’s skirmishes lies scorching heat. And while each attempts to tame the other, the truth is that this unconventional union may be all either could ever desire . . .

My Review

5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Give The Devil His Duke is the first book in the Drop Dead Duke series and it was absolutely everything I want out of a historical regency romance. Colorful characters, an action packed and entertaining plot filled with humor, snarky banter, mystery and excitement. This stunning Duke will steal your heart as he tries to do what’s right not only for his family but for Francesca as well. But hold on to your seat as this spirited, strong, as well as beautiful, Lady Francesca will have you cheering her on as she puts the Duke in his place. But most importantly, the romantic and scorching heat between these two is off the charts!

Lady Francesca Stanhope at the age of twenty-one, had just returned to London after ten long years, living with her mother in a small cottage in Ashwell, Herefordshire, since being shunned and blamed by their family for a scandal.

Lady Crump a loyal friend to Francesca’s mother Lady Maria Stanhope was sponsoring Lady Francesca for a season. But Lady Francesca was not in London to dance, or capture a husband, but to try to remain invisible, until she could talk with her Uncle Edward and hopefully obtain some money that would help her mother’s worsening health issues.

Giles Drew the Eighth Duke of Basingstoke, is everything a proper aristocrat ought to be.

At least in the eyes of the ton, he’s charming, honorable, a man without vice, and a paragon of the highest principles. But to try to repair his family’s position after his father’s destructive behavior, he decides to marry Susannah Stanhope. But when a notorious scandal sheet publish details of his questionable behavior. Only one bride can salvage his reputation. Beautiful and penniless Lady Francesca. But will Giles make the right decision?

“How could I tell you, Francesca, that when I saw you in the garden that night, with those blue eyes and all that dark hair tumbling about your shoulders, I thought by some magical stroke of luck, I’d secured the hand of the most beautiful lady in London?”

So entertaining with snarky banter, and Francesca frequently putting Giles in his place had me constantly smiling. And when the scheming, selfish, egotistical relatives who were so mean spirited, received their due from the town I was dancing in my seat. This is such a fantastic start to this new series. You will not want to put this down. I am anxiously awaiting the next book in this series!

I received an early copy and this is my honest review.

[luxdesign]

Interior Design Firm Anna Maria Island

Immerse yourself in the coastal charm of Anna Maria Island with our interior design firm. At Lux Design, we bring your vision to life, crafting breathtaking interiors that embody the island's laid-back elegance. From luxurious beachfront estates to charming cottages, we infuse every space with personalized style and sophistication. Our team of skilled designers will curate a seamless design experience. Give us a call today. Visit:   https://www.luxdesign.ca

[simblrangel]

On Maria’s birthday,

The De Leon girls were surprised to wake up and find a cow on their farm, led and being cleaned by John.

"What’s this!” Maria asked.

“Someone I know was selling her for a bargain. I thought you could take great care of her here.”

“She’s splendid, John. But you know I can’t afford this.”

“Maria, please. Its a gift. No strings attached.”

Maria had a hard time wrapping her head around the idea of a gift. She was so accustomed to overly friendly men taking advantage of her misfortune. But once again, John’s sweet eyes conveyed his honesty.

“Besides, its more like a gift for the kids.” He added.

It was true. They had basically fallen in love.

“Thank you, my dear friend.”

He shrugged away her thanks, but smiled as if he couldn't be prouder. “So, what will you name her?”

“Hm... I think I’ll call her, Alice.” Maria said, and John got a kick out of that.

Start 1890  ||  << Prev  || Next >>

[justinwilson0857]

tickled pink cottage Holmes beach Anna Maria Beach house rentals, anna maria island rentals with pool, anna maria island beach cottages, beach house anna maria island fl, tickled pink cottage Holmes beach.

[vacationcottagesami]

Beach House Anna Maria Island FL

Anna Maria Beach house rentals, anna maria island rentals with pool, anna maria island beach cottages, beach house anna maria island fl, tickled pink cottage Holmes beach. https://www.vacationcottagesami.com/

[rramirentals]

Anna Maria Island Vacation Rentals Homes

Experience a relaxing getaway with Anna Maria Island Vacation Rentals Homes. Our properties offer beautiful views, comfortable accommodations, and easy access to the beach. Whether you're looking for a cozy cottage or a spacious home, we have the perfect spot for your island vacation. Enjoy sun, sand, and serenity!

[drosera-nepenthes]

Since the World War, when Italy though united with Germany and Austria-Hungary in the Triple Alliance, joined the Allies, no one has seriously contemplated a marriage alliance between the Italian House of Savoy and a scion of a German royal family. That is, not until two years ago.

The person to whom it occurred was a twenty-year-old girl. She was Mafalda, the second daughter of Vittorio Emanuele, King of Italy. At Rome had met a young German art student, Philip of Hesse, son of Prince Friedrich Carl of Hesse and a nephew of William Hohenzollern. Her was seven years her senior, blond, athletic of build, an enthusiastic sportsman, and intensely interested in architecture. One of his ideas was that the cottage could be as architecturally perfect as the palace if the same amount of interest were put into its designing. Other ideas he had, many of which Mafalda, herself interested in the arts, found absorbing.

When she went to Racconigi, the castle in northern Italy where the royal family was spending the summer, her thoughts were full of the young German. But she said nothing, for she knew that a marriage with a citizen of a country so recently an enemy of Italy would be most unacceptable. Her elder sister, Yolanda, had that spring been married to the Italian Count Calvi de Bergolo, greatly disappointing her grandmother, the Queen Mother Margherita, who had hoped for an alliance with an heir to one of the few crowns still remaining in Europe.

Margherita was indeed, at that very moment planning a royal marriage for Mafalda. To this end, the Duke of Brabant, heir to the Belgian throne, and his sister Marie Jose were invited to Raconigi. September 15 was the birthday of Prince Umberto, Mafalda's only brother. It was the Queen Mother's desire that at the birthday fete, the betrothal of Mafalda and the Belgian Prince should be announced.

Mafalda confided to her sixteen-year-old sister Giovanna that she was in love with the German Prince and not in the least interested in the throne of Belgium. “I wouldn't marry a man that didn't love,” replied the loyal Giovanna, “but Grandmother will be furious.”

On the eve of the birthday fete, Mafalda and Giovanna were both taken suddenly ill, whether with a bona fide malady or the kind that mysteriously grips children at the sound of the school bell has never been authentically verified. At any rate the celebration was called off, and the royal guests went home.

When the Belgian danger was well removed, Mafalda announced to her father that she wanted to marry the young German – not without misgivings for she knew that his race and religion (he is a Lutheran, she a Roman Catholic) were both against him, in addition to the fact that he is crownless. Said Vittorio Emanuele: “Your grandmother will never give her consent to such a marriage, but if you are really in love with this man, your mother and I will not oppose you. But you must wait.”

For two years Mafalda waited, riding her horses, driving her motor, playing tennis, seeing Philip occasionally and hoping that her grandmother would be won over.

September 1925. Again there was to be a celebration at Racconigi – and this one really came off. There were flowers by the crate. There were intricate and indigestible pastries from the choicest Italian caterers. There were interesting boxes of assorted shapes containing things wrapped in crinkling tissue paper. There were two motor lorries of orange blossoms from Sicily. There was a greeting card from every school boy and girl in Italy. There were forty Kings, Queens, and Princes of the Royal Blood in very many stars and ribbons and a quantity of gold braid. There was a ball at which the older guests sat decorously along the wall while the younger executed the most up-to-date steps to lively jazz tunes.

There was Princess Mafalda Maria Elisabetta Anna Romana in a gown of finest white Italian silk with a train four yards long, wearing a veil of exquisite handmade lace and a rope of three hundred pearls – and there was Philip of Hesse, to whom she was married in the first wedding to take place between royal houses who were enemies in the late war.

Before the marriage, which was by Papal dispensation, Prince Philip renounced his rights to any German succession which might in the future fall to him. For this reason the alliance is not considered in Europe to be of any great political significance.

Prince Philip and his bride will live in a villa which Prince Philip himself designed and built on an estate belonging to King Vittorio Emanuele. It is probable that their home life will be characterized by the same democracy and simplicity which has marked the household of the Italian royal family, Queen Elena, who is extremely fond of children, and has the most modern ideas for their upbringing, has given her own children an equioment which fits them admirably for the sort of lives which Yolanda and Mafalda have chosen for themselves. Italy, accustomed to the regal splendor of the days of the late King Umberto and Margherita, the present Queen Mother, was at first unkindly disposed towards Queen Elena's methods. Ideas have changed since the war, however and Italians have celebrated with enthusiasm the love marriages of the two eldest daughters of their Sovereigns.

-Our World Weekly, 1925

[jewelgrow]

Benefits Availed From Anna Maria Vacation Rental Cottage On Vacation

There are many prime advantages of staying in Anna Maria vacation rental cottage in an area as they are larger than average hotel rooms and also offer many additional amenities of a home away from home. Come have a look at some of the reasons as shared by visitors.

·         Several facilities: This makes them worth all your time, money and efforts that you have invested to look for the place find it and finally book it even if they come with a slightly higher price tag on it. Though there is much more to the process than just that and if you are planning to rent a place, you must consider the chief advantages of staying in one of them.

·         Best view: One of the greatest benefits of staying in Anna Maria vacation rental cottage is that you get to choose the location and view from your room like by the beach that you like about the place. You may not even have thought of being at the location before which will make your experience even better. When you choose to stay in a condo by your favorite attraction, you have the leverage that the place is only a few steps away from the accommodation.

·         Excellent service: Most of the Anna Maria vacation rental cottage will also have spigots out of the home so you can rinse off the sand from the beach with ease. Also, these vacation rentals offer rooms and homes larger than you have imagined with a fully furnished and functional kitchen, most of the time at least. All this makes your stay ultra-convenient and comfortable.

·         Meals included: The most obvious benefit here is that you can eat your meals in there instead of spending money to eat out in restaurants as having three meals a day out in restaurants is a pretty expensive deal. You and your better half can have the newspaper with a cup of freshly brewed coffee or even give the kids milk whenever needed without waking up all the other family members or go to the gas station.

·         Relaxing stay: Another hidden benefit is that you don’t have to make any major changes to our daily routine that you used to follow at home. Your kids can play and relax in their lounge in their pajamas, have breakfast and watch cartoons on the television. 

There are many benefits when deciding to stay in Anna Maria vacation rental cottage with extra spaciousness and privacy.

We at beachrentals.mobi offer best Anna Maria beach cottages and Anna Maria beach rentals packages. We take pride in informing you that here you will experience respect for all the guests, satisfying their needs, and treating them equally. Cultures and subcultures vary in the extent to which one is expected to show hospitality to strangers.

[placestostayflorida]

Coconut Cottage 4 Anna Maria Island

Contents

Gorgeous 2 bedroom

Cottage. anna maria island vacation

Box 235 anna maria

35 rows  · COCONUT COTTAGE – Anna Maria Island Accommodations Gorgeous 3 bedroom/2.5 bath home, only a couple of blocks to the beach! There is a king in the master with a flat screen TV, a king in the second, and a twin trundle in the third bedroom.

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Anna Maria Island vacation rental on Holmes Beach in Florida, Coconut cottage. anna maria island vacation rental on Holmes Beach in Florida, Coconut Cottage. Please call or email to reserve property: 941-779-0733 315 Pine Avenue, PO box 235 anna maria, Florida 34216. E-mail. HOME …

The post Coconut Cottage 4 Anna Maria Island appeared first on CSITND Travel Blog.

[amiluxury]

luxury vacation rentals anna maria island

Are you planning a vacation to explore the breathtaking Anna Maria Island and Palma Sola Bay? Don’t worry and visit us at AMI Luxury Accommodations to find premium luxury vacation rentals Anna Maria Island. Our exclusive luxury vacation rentals are more than mere holiday accommodation, as they showcase seamless style, comfort, and elegance at its best. We offer fully furnished luxury properties including captivating seaside cottages, and stunning beachfront villas that are meticulously customized to meet the specific preferences of global tourists. Moreover, these vacation rentals come with ultramodern facilities that are aligned with the futuristic trends of coastal lifestyle.

[tortillastar]

Ribs

She drags the shoe across the linoleum tendu à la second. The offending stockinged leg stares back from the mirror. The creased turnout - just shy of 180 - the lemon-peel crease at the crook of her knee, the tumor bulge of her kneecap, and the limp left toes, hung out to dry like Sunday laundry. Slight, like a pimple dotting one’s brow, yet enough to give it the look of a crooked branch.

She shifts her gaze to the leg and gazes detachedly as the flesh constricts, pulling and stretching into the same strange crests and valleys traced by shadow. A heaviness presses upon her knee, a directive to point is lost in translation, and only then did she realize her feet were numb.

A few streaks of light claw the studio floor, slicing her leg like a loaf of brioche. She nudges her phone with the frayed corner of her pointe shoe. 8:10. Two hours she’d been in the empty studio tucked at the end of the hall, only the hawk-eyes and bitter laugh of the mirror for company.

For the past month, she’d taken to running the exam combinations in some pretense of preparing for the winter final. In ballet, no amount of midnight cramming would shuffle the pecking order. Anna would top the list, Svetlana and Maria eating at her heels a few miles removed. She would powder the bottom, placidly hanging on the brink of expulsion as only one who’d lived bare-necked beneath the guillotine for five years and four months could.

She hadn’t gotten past the first set of pas de bourrées, engaged in a staring contest with the knee she’d hammer straight, the bones she’d melt and remold, the feet she’d shape into the neck of a goose.

She peers at the face in the mirror, fixed with a melted and molded smile, like a wax mask worn in the sun. The janitor would be making his rounds soon. He was a stubby hunchback who reeked of greasy bacon and cottage cheese and picked his teeth with the rusted keys on his belt-sized keyring - one she preferred not to cross.

She wobbles over to her bags and collapses by them, a boney addition to the hobo pile. Practiced hands dig out the knot and unravel the ribbons. They leave red tracks crisscrossing her calves - she’d tied them too tight. Her nails absent-mindedly trace the straw-like veins, some purple, some blue along her feet, peeling off millimeter by millimeter each patch and piece of toe-tape. They pull at her skin and reveal the scabs, the welts, the splotches of red. She slips out the studio, leaving a foot-width slit as the teachers did, a silent dusting of her tracks.

The two-minute trek back to the dorms was enough to stain her exposed cheeks crimson and numb the fingertips poking out of holes in her winter gloves. The knob gives too easily.

No Anna, but the heap of dress and stockings, shed like a lizard's skin at the foot of the bed, confirmed her lurking presence.

Stealing food again.

At this, the girl allows herself a haughty flick of the lead eyebrows smeared to the crown of her forehead. The fading desk lamp huffs out a sickly-yellow glow on the knots of hair, specks of dust, bits of paper, and the torn sole of an unwashed stocking poking forth from beneath the bed. They invaded the edges of her vision, rubbing a crude line around the corners.

The girl picks up a corner of the lilac leotard, the sheer purple skirt would clumsily about the waist and noted with a bitter cornrow twist of the lip the xs tag, the letters faded and cracked, but the jeer no quieter. Hers was two sizes bigger - two sizes too big. A fist-sized patch of sweat bloomed at the chest. She smells in its sticky sweetness, browned toast, and poached eggs. Hands bring the damp clothing closer to her hankering nose. She stumbles at the rusty stutter of the doorknob and flings the dress back atop the pile with a flinch.

Anna slips in, lithe as a cat. She flips the lock shut with a blind hand, balancing in the other a plate piled with the usual - tattered cheese squares and soggy folded between slices of flaking bread heels.

“Back already?” The words are puffy and thick. Two folded sandwiches balloon from her cherry-petal lips; a scrap of ham flags the corner of her mouth. The lilt fills in the rest - given up already?

The girl hums, letting the implication roll off her like a raindrop caught on an umbrella.

Anna flops on her bed, sidestepping the strewn clothes and bunched skirts on impossibly high relevé. A few sandwiches flop open, but no creak of the headboards. A few sticky stabs of the remote control and a projection flickers to life on the far wall, bathing her form in a hazy-blue hue. It flecks her hair, mud brown and unbrushed, but pretty in that careless way only those who didn’t care their appearance seemed capable of. A white collarbone peaks out the collar of her nightshirt, paper-strip legs from the mouth of flared pajama pants. A flat chest and masculine frame suspended her at that blissful age where the body seemed an insatiable black hole, vanishing the food she ate without a trace. The girl stares at the way her kneecaps vanished into the line of her leg, and the natural doming of her foot, even unpointed, and subconsciously shoved her numb toes and bruised legs further beneath her bed.

She was the same once - wolfing down oil-crisp fries and cheese-dripping burgers at the KFC beneath her ballet class, shoving a bag of chips to the tail of the conveyor belt, being chased around the house by her grandmother, begging her to down the last gulp of soup.

It had come about gradually, imperceptibly, like the callouses about her big toe. A few arched eyebrows, a few frowns, and a simple “Katia switch with Sofya” relegated her to the spot by the exit door. The ones who occupied it never stayed long - dismissed, or crushed under the pressure of digging themselves out.

Her fork lingered over the beefsteak, wound an uneasy pirouette, and stabbed into the neighboring mound of greens. That had been easy. The academy canteen didn’t serve much red meat in the first place. Fish was harder, especially the cuts of smoked salmon she slapped on everything from burnt toast to insipid spinach leaves. Eggs went because she forgot to grab one breakfast. Then milk, because the skim milk pitcher had run dry one morning, and if she wasn’t drinking milk anymore why keep up with the yogurt.

She forced down finger-sized carrots, bitter brussels sprouts, and broccoli florets that sunk into her teeth. First with leftover dribbles of salad dressing, then fruit, then nothing at all. She gazed at the squares of beef steak wedged in others’ mouths, trying to taste the greasy, crumbly juices in her raw cucumber slices.

She took to keeping food and water on her person at all times - an orange bulging like a tumor in her clutch, a thermos tucked in the rooster pouch of a holey jumper. It was to avoid starvation, the dull cramp in her stomach that tugged down the corners of her lips and inevitably followed by overeating. She never ate the food but kept bringing it along anyway - on the two-minute walk from her dorm to the academy, the few hundred-step walk from cafeteria to class.

Partly, she derived some warped pride from the fact that she could eat, but would not. Partly, she came to enjoy voicing with a breathy, bogged-down sigh, “I’m too full, anyone want this?” when she spotted a teacher turning the corner, and answering calls of “I’m starving, anyone got a snack?” with granola bars, and too-large apples shoved in her classmates’ faces, smiling an evasive smirk when they accepted.

She scanned barcodes and tallied up the calories, grinning in triumph when she dragged herself through the day at under a thousand - net, of course, she was careful.

“Want one?” She realizes she’d been staring, and by the arch of Anna’s single crow-bar brow, for too long. Without shame, the girl raises her eyes to meet Anna’s pitch-black orbs, poised before an eye-roll she would probably share with her bed lamp.

“No thank you.” Creaks the automatic reply. “I don’t eat bread.” She adds to strengthen her conviction, though nobody would spare a glance at her plate at lunch to check if she’d kept her word.

“Your loss.”

A buoyant, techno tune draws her gaze to the projection. For the night, Anna had passed up the flabby American rom-coms she inhaled under the pretext of learning English. Instead, flappy, armless sleeves, squirming tuber dresses, and pendulum purses paraded down coffee-stained roads, easily avoiding the few puddling gulps dotting the curbs. Towering lampposts, shop signs, wobbly curbstones, each leaf bleached grey. A flap of bat’s wings and the occasional lilting bird whine completes a pretend eeriness ruined by the too-matte paint, the too-smooth roads, the too-new metal benches.

The camera whirled about, favoring a bottom-to-top shot that lent full view to jutting, crooked knees, and bowed legs. The girl frowns at their pastry-thin shoulders, chicken-wing spatula, and pigeon-toed walk. She sees in bed-sheet expressions not aristocratic coolness, but contemptible misery - a silent plea on weighted lips.

“You can become a model if you’re dismissed.” Her smacking lips pork chop the words, her mouth brimmed like her suitcase, its zippered mouth perpetually open in half-hearted surprise. She tears open the final sandwich, nails pressing crescent-moons into the holey bread pockets. The girl lifts a corner of her lip in a wan smile.

The words pick at hardened scabs, no more than a tickle. She’d been suspended on the chopping block from the moment she was accepted, and the sense of urgency had long since worn thin. The studio hours after class was fulfilled out of habit, not any imminent fear of dismissal.

The girl thought it was Anna’s brand of helping - disaster prevention through repeated exposure. They walked the no-man’s-land between friend and stranger on a scaffolding of convenience and pity.

“They have it easy. Just starve themselves, look miserable, parade around clothes slapped with some expensive brand name. And people shower them with praise.” She sucks the tips of her fingers with a pop.

“We have to starve ourselves and look happy doing it.” She stands up with the empty plate. A few dark specks had already seized on the leftover crumbs.

“You’re showering first.” A phrase stranded between question and demand.

The door croaks shut, and her wobbly “Yeah” sinks in the empty room. The bed groans as she stands. She wants to peel off the bark and tear the baseboards but glares dully woodgrains for a few beats before grabbing her shower duffel from the doorway.

The shared bathroom is conspicuously empty. The others had showered after class, she assumed. She twists off her jumper and lets the cold prick at her bare arms, observing each pimpling goosebump. Slowly, she peels off the lilac leotard and rejoices at the wrinkle of fabric bunched beneath the armpits. Cold fingers trace along the ribs, revealed one by one, pressing a chill to each angled, protruding bone. In the mirror - lustrous despite the grimy tiles and cracked sinks, copper wire lips bend into a smile.