The flower of humanity that blooms in the consciousness of a woman of the street does not have the fortune to conquer the stench of the social swamp that surrounds it with its perfume. It is deceived and surrenders to fate.

Despair leaves the wounded soul of a humiliated woman, and in its place takes a delusion: the restoration of her tattered dignity.

However, the dark atmosphere of this vicious circle brightens with the extensions that the virtues of the work take in our mental world.

[Excerpt from the publisher's or edition's presentation text]