The imaginary, rooted so deep it became unerasable, and one becomes unable to stop thinking about it. Phantom desire combined into a status quo sensual figure. Big D Is Back In Town, says her cap, and each of her dozen breasts bouncing like you were invited to join her dichotomy. The iconic Capitoline Wolf, the mother who fed and shaped something larger than herself, came to you, for the last time, as a roleplayer of what she was given. She manifested herself, ’cause your thoughts were so loud, her beauty nap couldn’t happen. Her breasts sucked out so hard they became sultana raisins, but those kids yelling for more never stop being hungry. Let mother rest, okay?? The she-wolf has some real non-conforming business to do.

Mic drop, boob drop—she-wolf dissolves into puzzles.

Autodeconstruction is the key, and if one owns it, transition gets wide open.