She sits in the corner, half hidden in the shadows. Almost invisible among the colours and shapes and the noise. No-one sees her there. Our glances seem to slide off her embarrassed to have caught a glimpse of her desolation. She blends chameleon-like into the painting behind. I wonder if she didn’t step from that bright world into this drab one and cannot find her way home. To her we must look the same. Lost souls looking for redemption at the bottom of a bottle. Trying not to be seen.