Like her muses, Tallulah applies foundation over scars to create sanitized statues of womanhood and childhood. Yet beneath their polished exteriors lie raw vulnerability, trapped and troubled. They’re scrubbed clean, perfect for consumption, never to be recalled, but they threaten with invisible fangs that haunt their porcelain smiles. Constrained by societal expectations, they wrestle with inner demons to uphold their veneer of virtuosity, to make their mothers proud. Meanwhile, they navigate the subtle dominance of paternal figures, ever mindful of the shrouded authority that demands their compliance, ensuring that each moment remains precious. You know how volatile daughters can be.
