The red one reminds of a spicy Latina I dated. The little hoops remind me of her excess hair that always looped around the ear. "Lorena" could captivate my meager Caucasian imagination with the primitive and tribal dance of her ancestors.
The yellow one reminds me of my mom's old high school yearbook. She depressingly clings on to the past where her days in the spotlight as a high school cheerleader were the best days of her life, until [name unknown] knocked her up, and eventually walked into maternity, without a male to help out with me. The yellow one hides behind the pom-poms, with every shake and rattle obfuscating the reality of forgotten dreams.
The pink one reminds me the indifferent geriatric who fosters borrowed time before dying by participating in innocuous senior citizen activities at the community center, i.e. 'hula dancing'. The pink one has eyes and an expression emptier than manifestation of forced self-acceptance of impending doom.
The blue one reminds me of the naive Hollywood hopeful. She dreams of the bright lights, the camera at every angle, but doesn't realize that she ultimately ends up like the pink one. You can perhaps fan through the shadows of your own self-introspection, but vehemently ignoring your own morality warrants covering her eyes are the tear up after every performance.
