To me, she looked like a beautiful porcelain doll. Her skin so smooth, so delicate that she could have been scratched and harassed just by the slightest touch of acrid, polluted air. The blue pattern and milky color of her delicate, flowery tattoos gave her skin almost an angelic aura. It could have eased the eyes and melted the hearts of the most angry and violent of men. Could have, but it didn’t.
I looked at her from above; when she was lying there naked in the fetal position. Her body took the shape of a vase. The parallel curves gently met in a single, delicate splash at the back of her neckline, which further heightened my curiosity.
Lets break that porcelain trinket,
lets see how far the pieces will scatter.
Is it full or is it empty?
I am so glad that I caught her.
Her soul like a family of careless butterflies lifted up into the sky, no sooner and no later than he designed it to. [Weronika Nossowicz]