Faeries. The place is littered with them. Statues, glow-in-the-dark wall decorations, pictures... The walls are painted green. Dragonfly photos. Faery books. Faery jewelry. Faery music. It's a very faery place.
I still swear I'm actually trans-specied (a faery in mortal guise), not "just" transsexual. I think "transsexual" is the closest realistic approximation for the feeling my brain could come up with ("well ok, FINE, if I can't flitter about with gossamer wings, can I at LEAST be a girl? PLEEEAASE?")
I've chosen to not share this with my therapist, however. Shhhh...