Her face, reflection illuminated, has lost its beauty. Every wrinkle and tear has taken its toll; youth no longer holds up to the scrutinizing eyes of those fixed upon her. But in the faint glow of the night, her silhouette sitting on a windowsill crying silently- this is perfection. Absorbed by the pain of what the world has shown her (cruelty). Hidden from the glare of her own betrayals she sits with grace; in shadows she finds elegance. Every regret spills down her face, glistening in moonlight without the wretched shame of sunshine to remind her of weakness. There is no solace without sorrow, to live and breath without the weight of grief on her chest would be nothing more than mediocre cinema.
