Tubéreuse Impériale, Nonchalant, she walks with regular strides. Her headpiece and the swing of her hips are well rehearsed. She doesn’t want to seem to pretty in her white headdress. Sovereign, she faints ignorance while passer-by’s stares over the light colored turban that unfolds in a corolla. Her frail silhouette sways proudly under the weight of this crown of sunshine: the envy of all flowers.