The story is always the same. Bright lights attract her as a hypnotic scent. She can not resist to approach and begin her dance, a hymeneal dance. The Light warms the dark corner, that darkness that mysteriously draws her although it makes her frightened. In that mirage, every touch of the sticky web covers her little by little. The touch of the web is warm, she likes it. The more she moves, the web surrounds and limits her motion. Finally, she's completely wrapped, standing still, numb... Time seems to have stopped. The transformation begins. The shroud turned into dust and felt off, her body was now clean. The pray became predator.
