If you can read this, you're too close.

Sunissa Shrimpton has generously permitted me to make public the following facts about herself and her life. See if you can spot the essential dichotomy.

Recently Mrs Shrimpton has been smitten with a certain reclusive author. Sunissa Shrimpton-Snicket has such a delightful ring.

Mrs Shrimpton, having been misled by the name as the Vikings intended, has spent her summers in Greenland since becoming widowed.

It is her custom to winter in Patagonia. There's a funny story behind that, actually, but it's been a long time since I saw Eversmile, New Jersey.

It is futile to inquire into Mrs Shrimpton's whereabouts during the Festa do Ricardão (March 17 - April 16). You would think that she would be on the French Riviera, but she isn't.

In the off season, Mrs Shrimpton occasionally resides at the charming Yorktown on the Park.

Mrs Shrimpton (or, as she is affectionately known to her neighbours, "the Shrimpton woman,") often changes her bank when the calculation of interest compounded daily on her monthly statement becomes too bourgeois and predictable.

The favourite fruit of Mrs Shrimpton is of course the apricot.

To Mrs Shrimpton's great sorrow, her only child lives with its father in one of the United States of America. But really, would boarding school have been so terrible?

As an alumna of Bryn Mawr College, Mrs Shrimpton often thinks fondly of the May Day Greek Play.

If she had not been warned about the ever-lurking danger of the possibility of losing all human dignity and being compelled to run about on all fours bellowing "Wolf! Wolf!", Mrs Shrimpton might spend more time in her boudoir, eating chocolate caramels and reading the novels of the lovely Sophie Weston.

If We Had The Technology, There Would Be Pictures

[IMAGE] Mrs Shrimpton attempting to smuggle her hedgehog onto the airplane.

[IMAGE] Mrs Shrimpton on the terrace at breakfast with Señor Vicuña.

[IMAGE] The view from Mrs Shrimpton's bedroom window at the cape.

[IMAGE] Mrs Shrimpton in happier times.

[IMAGE] Mrs Shrimpton looking pensive at an undisclosed location.

Technology strikes! Storage space remains limited.

three

Mrs Shrimpton, aged three.

[IMAGE] Mrs Shrimpton, blowing a kiss to a motorist who let her in.

All these and more will be in the book.

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Sometimes I need a little space of my own.

New photos! From the album of Señor Vicuña.

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