Let go of me, you brute! Okay, Miss Blatant Attitude. Novajo. I'm going for a ciggy. I'll be right back. Miss Voodoo. Ya, What? Balcony? Smoke Detectors eh?

Miss Shailene Woodley is No One Else but our next door Mudflap Girl. Of course, not necessarily in that posture.

Leta Laroe:

A next-door neighbor type of girl with demure

She gives you this seriously-annoying nostalgia. 

She makes you reminisce those gnawning moments of dissents and rebellions quelled with brutish and harsh measures.

Subdued defiance of an would-be anarchist.

A sacred song or poem -- Book of Psalms 

Like how some naive birdie preens its feathers oblivious of everything around her.

I believe -- she's to be ambidextrous: Sheer razor-sharp mental agility of someone with an innate aptitude for multiple and diverse talents. 

A polymath -- polymathic -- raw tolerable arrogance and I-don't-give-a-damn what if they think I've loud pride. At least, I'm not noisy. End of Interview. Thank you.

We always believe Talismans are inanimate objects of reverence or so -- but this girl is so you know -- like so sparkling lava-hot intense awe. So, now I know why they do that thing: -- obeisance.

Jesus is real. Here's my resignation. Goodbye, NASA.

Here I come My Shooting Star. My Nova. My Diva.

Twinkly eyes or apprehensions of a Bride-To-Be.

Yep. Behead me for heresy. My Destiny.

Believer's El Dorado on The Planet Earth. Er That Houri poof disappeared. Remorse is a vital sign of weak faith.

No soul mates yep -- do people still believe in that Greek myth? Someone once told me poison has tangy taste.

In a nutshell: Miss Shailene Woodley is: The Fall of Icarus -- My first clumsy copycat of Henri Matisse: drawing with scissors.

Pictorial maunderings of a A Whirling Dervish -- dazzlingly bright cutouts -- Glow-in-the-dark -- exquisite papers -- deligently handmade -- 

She snatched it so menacingly that kaleidoscope -- a make-believe souvenir -- this scar is the deep unhealed wound of my soul -- colored glass pieces like vengeful sharpnels cuts -- I picked up at her doorsteps....

Footsteps...

Depressed? Really real?

Yep, Mentor.

Look there: She comes again

And, Archangel too -- with this divine elixir of all earthly ailments i.e. a washproof Band–Aid -- a tourniquet? Ya, Then What?

LOL

LOL

LOL

LOL

Chorus: Celestial Hierarcy of Angels: LOL