Maria,
You were my sparkling golden girl…with a face so exquisitely sculpted that even the divine Michelangelo would have given you the nod. F. Scott Fitzgerald would have undoubtedly agreed. You should have met him, Maria. How you would have captivated him with your green eyes and reckless spirit! He would have followed your every move and recorded every observation with insatiable curiosity. Once smitten, he’d say, “She was always a bit more dazzling…and just a touch wittier than anyone else in the room.” What triumphs he’d give you! Such dramas! What fun! while the rest of the characters paled next to you. But your soul, Maria…well, that would have to lend itself to tragedy… because the intensity of your light would also be the very source of your pain. So he would have you exit quietly…and that’s exactly what you did. How clever of you to slip away from all of us…in the earliest of hours on New Year’s Day…when all the parties were over, and the champagne was all gone, you smiled sweetly and left the earth…as one who has suddenly grown bored with Paris…and moves on to London…with just a bit more grace.