Prologue

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New York. The place where everything happens. The city of dreams, flowing seamlessly, one life merging inextricably with another life, the hustle and bustle of people and taxis and lights, big screens on bigger buildings, car horns, police sirens, people shouting, singing, talking, never stopping, day and night. It's ironic that New York was a refuge, a place of silence and stillness, the place that Isla went to in order to escape everything- the judgement of her family, her failure, the prospect of marrying someone wealthy and becoming a housewife and mother to children that she did not want. If only she had fallen for the boy that her parents had chosen out for her. She could have achieved so much more than this, as her parents told her many times before she left. Little did she know where New York would lead her. Her life at this time resembled a blank canvas, and New York was going to paint it with the brightest and most luminous colours, creating the piece of art that would one day be displayed in the most prestigious of galleries; her own mind's eye. New York would become her raison d'être. Little did she know at the time that it would be the making of her rise and fall. 

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