There's something so mysterious and sad about this woman. I look at her and wonder how many years she's been waiting at this doorway in the center of the city. I think that she could have been waiting here before my grandparents were even born, and that she's weathered countless bitter cold winters, sunny days, and seen complete lifetimes pass her by.
Her face, the way it's aged, or how it was carved leaves her looking scarred and shy, but she's quite demure and lovely, isn't she?
Her face, the way it's aged, or how it was carved leaves her looking scarred and shy, but she's quite demure and lovely, isn't she?
