The tilt of an eyebrow, the stylized sculptures and waves of keratin gelled up and curled down, the blushing skin and fashionable clothing - there was an attraction in that, I suppose, in being hygienic and looking, quite literally, like a million dollars. I can't say I haven't been tempted from time to time - wearing a piece of art could never go wrong, as it would always look exactly the way one knew it would appear.

It's slightly ironic though - the most beautiful things could be the cheapest ones of all. Those that shone through the dress up in the form of sunlight peeking through clouds, or sun rays casting dappled patterns on a ground of fallen leaves. Unfiltered, natural, fleeting beauty in the moments where angels show their true forms and everyone has to look away because pure light is simply, blindingly beautiful.

There was something so incredible about the priceless things. Mountains, soaring into the sky, blazed with trails of mulch and trees so in time with nature they give off their own moods and energies. Rivers, clear waters rushing through them, relentless in their onslaught overtop rocks and pebbles. Skies brighter than anything I've ever seen before, lined with colours bleeding so smoothly into one another it seemed flawless.

A man's soul and will to persevere, even in times of difficulty when the doors are graffitied so harshly there seems to be no way out. A lady's drive to stay true to herself, and to find other means out of predicaments by kindness and understanding.

In the sense of money, all these things have no immediate worth - no price tag, no leopard overcoat stuffed with goose down and rimmed with mink fur. But in the long run, it means everything to oneself - and that, no matter how cheap, is what I want my legacy to be like.