what do you see?

and she painted...

starfish?

her hands tremble at the want of inspiration... she knows this is the moment of change where she is the painter... the bulbous molten form is morphing into various shapes (even a starfish in red sand) before it finds it's course... what will be?

vanity..?

she sits in the wee hours of the morning with the cold morning air burning her cheeks as she gathers the tattered edges of her world...

... as her hair frame her face and drop over her shoulders, a wistful expression in her eyes says she looks beautiful... yet in vain...!