I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses.
— Friedrich Nietzsche

She is the forest at nightfall. Deep and ever changing, she is whoever she wants to be. One minute she is gold and silver sequins on white and airy tulle, like a snowy owl in the arctic sky. The next she is long, glossy layers of dark fabric studded with thousands of black paillettes. She is leather over lace and deep plunging necklines, low cuts down the length of her back. She is the imperial blue of a velvet night sky, with bits of pearl and silver sewn into her bodice like stars.

In a night of dark trees, if we dare, we can be whoever we want to be. Nightfall, by Rouba G., for the light and dark, the fragile and powerful in every woman. 

—Yara Zgheib (