The turquoise blue door was what initially grabbed my attention prior to anything else; followed by a deep ocean underneath an infinite sky, which really doesn’t say much. Is the sky clear or is it not? Is it well-prepared to host millions of raindrops or has it already watered the ocean by the same drops?

I then saw a faceless woman, who sits princely on a ravishing French chair on a balcony, which was once covered with the sweetest dreams. With her legs crossed, she shows off the satin ribbons on her black shoes. Her numb face isn’t much more affectionate than the unpredictable sky. Is she content or is she not? Has she grieved or is she lost? She doesn’t seem to be stunned by the view behind, nor with the room-with-a-view of many admirers.

The faceless woman has let go of her hopes. The ones that once upon a time were the main excuse of her heartbeats. And look at her now; all she holds on to is an opened green parasol to protect her memories.

S