POMEGRANATE has been her dream for so long she doesn’t know what to do with herself now that it’s happening. There about one million things to do but she’s grateful she has her assistant, and also her sister at her side to help her do it. The decorations are up, the lights twinkling, there’s a bar set up one one side and there are cater waiters flanked on each side waiting to serve the incoming guests.
She is wearing a red off the shoulder flouncy wrap dress, her hair is long and wavy and a little bit messy, but presentable, and the headband in her hair is keep it all together. At least physically. Emotionally she is all over the place. She is excited, of course, but she is also nervous as heck that it won’t go well, that people will hate it and her art and that she would be a failure.
But it’s finally here, and so she takes a deep breath, and she stands on the makeshift stage and does a “Hi, I’m Eden Soloman-Rafaeli and Pomegranate has been my dream since I was a kid, and tonight I’m so thankful to be sharing all of this with you,” and she raises her glass in a toast and opens up the doors to the rest of the gallery and watches as people filter in.
And so she’s off first to the bar, because she’ll need it, giving the bartender a look “two shots of tequila please, I need all the liquid courage I can get.”