The first time I pulled the hood over my head and looked through the mask, I didn’t see a hero — I saw someone hiding, uncertain, testing her own limits. The latex suit was inspired by Spider-Gwen, but the feeling went deeper: the mix of power and vulnerability that comes with full concealment.
The underground garage became my stage. Every echo of my Ballet Heels against the ramp was a reminder that elegance can also hurt. Walking there wasn’t easy; the slope turned every step into a challenge. But that’s what I came for — to lose control, to find balance again, to move even when everything around me said don’t. I keep dreaming about more restrictive shoots, tighter boundaries, less air — not as punishment, but as another way to test where grace can still exist under pressure.
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