Oh to walk through Mona's mind!

If, in the tradition of the ancients' Memory Palace, we were to assign a space to each bite of knowledge in our possession, Mona's Palace would be a strange and wonderful place, shifting milieux with each turn of a corner.

One is first presented with a gleaming, modern lobby. Corbusier meets Kubrick. Panels display destination after destination: Cairo. New York. San Diego. London. Baghdad. Poised hosts and hostesses shuttle cocktails to fabulous internationalistas in smart suits and pillbox hats. Amidst the stainless steel, behind the reception, is a green wooden door. It has the pockmarked shine of a thousand paint jobs. This is the door to the library.

Passing through it, we come to a cavernous maze of books. The sort you'd see in Borges or Eco. The smell of old paper lingers in the air, and motes of dust flicker in the light from small stained-glass windows high on the walls. Each stack is draped with ancient fabrics. Fussy old men and women push clacking ladders from Philosophy to Philology, History to International Relations, lost in their thoughts. They speak a dozen languages among themselves, content to build no tower to Heaven but just to keep their library in condition. Interspersed among the stacks are carrells, each one with a long quill and ink, a candle, and parchment. Perfect for epistillary, or to record a brilliant thought otherwise lost among the books.

Not everyone finds it, but among the labyrinth of books, there's another door, tiny and unassuming.

This door leads to the salon. Fashioned by enclosing a cloister, it combines heavy, moresque vaulting with delicate Venetian glass. A black stone hearth bears the marks of constant use, for this is where the innermost fires of creativity and spirit are stoked. Above it, on the mantle, a cuckoo clock happily marks time. A tea service is ready on the coffee table, and the sharp aroma of hibiscus wafts upward, amidst the sumptuous chaises and club chairs. As the afternoon passes by, the light tracks through the windows, casting ever-changing dapples over this quiet, private space. As we sit back, and look out at the gardens beyond, we marvel at our fortune at knowing such a kindred soul.

It hasn't been long since I have met Mona, but I can tell already that she is abs incredible - brilliant, electric, fascinating, and given a sense of humor which is both rich, bizarre, and wonderful. She has read every book written in every language everywhere in the world. This girl is dangerous!

Though we've not met live:

In her images one can clearly see the roots of why thousands of slaves were sacrificed to erect pyramids in honor of her ancestors: She embodies regal beauty (look at the photos duh!!!) with a more modern fashion sense and retains the commanding writings that ruled an empire, but without the inconvenience of trying to find decent papyrus parchment and related inks.

She's a fair accomplice in the matters of secret/surprise party planning. I'd have her help me plan a marketing plan, my acceptance speech or war anyday.

Boys she is only half as pretty in the photos. She's drop dead gorgeous in real life, watch out or your heart will be stolen before you notice it isn't beating anymore . ..