37. Aren’t I Fabulous?

In this whimsical exchange between divinity and devotee, the subject at hand is none other than the cascading glory of hair. She, a celestial being with tresses that could put any shampoo ad to shame, floats above, her locks a silent testament to her otherworldly grace.

It’s a playful acknowledgment that, for all our human complexities, we often find vanity in the strands we style with such care. Her statement is a humorous wink at humanity’s curious obsession with keratinous fibers, finding beauty and identity in something as peculiar as hair, which, for all its allure, is quite literally dead cells.