Is Truth is Beauty is Truth is

When she walks in the room, heads turn. Men, women, straight, gay, even dogs and cats. Flies and mosquitoes circle at a respectful distance, glorying just to behold her.

She sits at a table. One young man approaches, face flushed with drink. He is less witty than he thinks, even sober.

"So which is it?" he says, leering. "Is truth beauty or is beauty truth?"

She looks up, considers him, and then, with calm deliberation, breaks his heart. "It is neither," she tells him as he writhes on the ground. "We make our own truth."

She stands.

"Beauty is power."