icture this: a woman alights from a bus, her hands brimming with fragments of the day ahead of her. Draped over her is a cardigan that will take her through occasional fluctuations in temperature— accompanying her from the commute to the office and back—while perched on her shoulder is a workappropriate carry-all, bursting at the seams. A closer look unveils clues: heels from the night before, hastily folded swimwear, buried glasses and stacks of scribbled notes—intimate, yet forgotten. In her hurry, however, this woman wears a badge of chaos, disregarding perfection. Amid the bustle of her day lies a prideful acknowledgement of a sense of ‘this and that’. Chameleon-like, she defies definition. As she stands, she is a
