She travels in any direction the wind decides to blow, languid and free without the slightest worry in the world. Unbound by the restrictions of time, she follows her careless whims instead. The sun is already high in the sky when she wakes on a bed of hay, a resting place not unfamiliar after a night drenched in the hazy pleasures of wine. A soupçon of dried sweat mixed with a veil of smoke lingers on her skin, a scent intensified by the blaze of the afternoon heat. Who knows what today will hold? Life is just meant to be lived and she is La Femme Bohème.