[The place was huge. Long stairs helped people climb and reach all the outfits. Long cloth strips divided each garment and gave them the protection needed. There were more than half a million dresses. The oldest dress had been kept there for at least 50 years.

The legend goes like this:

Once upon a time, a king discovered her wife's green silk dress had the ability of portraying the personality of its first and oldest owner. Why did he discover it? A lady, who had asked the queen for a favor, gave her a lovely dress in return.

Every time the queen wore that dress she would become angry and so despicable. The king was mortified. He hadn't understood what happened to her on those days. Until, a strange day the lady came to see the king and asked him," Dear King, you are so kind to us. I wanted to bring you a dress your wife would feel beautiful and charming, but I found out that dress belonged to my great "the wicked" aunt. I don't think it is a good present after all. Could I have it back?"

The king answered," I can't, given it is, and given it shall stay. However, I know a way to give it back to you."

It was then... It struck the king. He had imagined that dress had been the reason his wife changed terribly in such a short notice.

He continued," I will give you a piece of land, a place where I will build an enormous wardrobe. It will be a ward full of dresses who have impregnated in the the personality of their previous owners.

Your duties will be: To be in charge of the ward, and find all those dresses." ]


Lovely stars are marked
in our faces,
we are somber spaces
in lovely changes
when we forget
who we are meant to be…

{…We are confused in the mist of who we think we are, instead of the clarity of who we really are. How can we understand ourselves?}

Lovely spaces marked
by the shifting universe
to find himself
through the mirror
of redemption.

{…Do we believe what the mirror says?… I mean what the dresses say? Do we believe the history our wardrobe portraits? Is it real? Are we a worn out dress? Are we a worn out personality impregnated of an old dress full of old patters and fibers? }

We move our faces
through absurd changes
to find we were always embraced
by the star of eternity.

[Suddenly she felt pulled by something. A piece of cloth rolled through her waist and drew her into the center of the ward.
“What is going on?” She shouted as something strained her until she understood something was putting her a dress on.
In no time, she felt how someone else’s image entered inside herself. She stopped being Ity, and transformed into…]

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