This is a story of a long journey of one ugly
The Lamp began it’s existence what looks like forever ago. Quite possibly in times of your grandma’s youth. Its shade had, in addition to a burnt spot on the
soul inside, questionable leaf-y cut-outs on the face outside.
The lamp, once youthful and fashionable, was now in need of some TLC, or, speaking in yet more modern terms, a plastic surgery. At first, the lamp was transformed into a Femme Fatale, as it was going through a rebellious stage in life.
That period quickly wore off, as the lamp grew wiser. Age is always accompanied by certain social expectations, thus the lamp was on its way to becoming classy.
Since aging gracefully has been banned already, another round of skin grafting was only acceptable.
The transformation proved to be successful and quite possibly final. The lamp is now happy with its new face, even the new wrinkles; and it’s proud of its preserved femininity and character. Moreover, it is now very content and balanced, and has adapted to its surroundings quite well.