Mora has long true black hair that goes
down to her waist. She wears violet purple contacts over her dark
brown eyes. She has a deep tan andstands five foot nine. Her build is a very
athletic one, somewhere between gymnast and model.
She usually wears a black tank top,
black stone-washed jeans, and soft leather combat boots that go over
half way up her calf.
Mora was raised by gypsies in Romania.
She has no brother or sisters. Her mother and father tried to raise
her in a more modern society, while her grandmother wanted to raise
her like the old ways. She always was caught in the middle of the
conflict between the two. She really liked the simplicity of the old
ways, but saw where one needs to be able to live in a modern society
as well.
Mora has always had an affinity with
people. She has an understanding of what they are thinking &
sense what they are feeling. Because of this it made it hard for her
while growing up being around others. Her grandmother taught her how
to keep it under control to where it didn't run her life.
She took up photography when she was
about twelve. She always liked being able to express how she saw
things. She takes pictures of people, scenery and of urban decay.
Things that show life the way it really is. Her parents wanted her to
become a dancer. She took ballet and modern dance classes since she
was five. She did love dancing when she was younger, but she wanted
to do something with her life that might actually mean something.
After leaving Romania for France with a dance troupe, she ran away to
become a photojournalist. She uses Mora as a pen name more or less to
help conceal who she really is. There hasn't been a picture taken of
her in many years, and to many she is dead or just a ghost.
Before Mora left with the dance troupe,
her grandmother asked her to stay so she could finish teaching her
all of the things she thought she might need in her life. Her
grandmother always told Mora that she was destined for something.
Mora did believe her, but she just couldn't handle being where she
was any longer.
She now travels the world as a freelance
photjournalist for big name magazines and newspapers. She loves her
work and it alows her to travel, something she has always wanted to
do.
One night in Paris, when rain was coming
down in sheets, Mora was racing to get to her hotel. She was in a
warm dark blue sweater, her stone-washed jeans and soft leather
combat boots. She was soaked to the bone when she passed by a set of
large wooden doors. These doors she had never seen before till
tonight, and she had passed this way many a time. She saw the warm
lights glowing from inside the Cafe and decided to enter.
The Cafe de Minuit was filled with
people. It seemed to her they were all friends. She slowly entered,
her drenched black hair in her face, and her violet eyes scanned the
room. She made her way across the floor to a fireplace. She sat down
in front of the hearth and ordered a mug of hot coffee. A kind
gentleman who sat across the room who had noticed her enter, paid the
waitress. Mora smiled and sent the waitress over with a think you.
The most kind man came to sit with her, to share the fire, and a bit
of conversation.
As the night went on they talked for
hours. It seemed like no time at all had passed, but hours in fact
had turned into days. Her new friend, who had introduced himself as
Bloodwolf, gave her a beautiful golden dagger that he had carried on
him. It was from a past love he told her. Mora accepted his gift very
kindly. Before too long he bid her farewell. As he left the cafe, she
knew that she was never going to see him again. She spent some time
at the bar, and then decided herself to leave the cafe. As Mora
walked out into the night air, she looked up at the stars,
not sure where it will lead her next.
Go back to Reflections
� 1996, 1997
Lady
Morathi
�
"End Credits" from
Gremlins
�