Reflections from the past

Did she exist? What was she like? Did she really look like this? I could feel the power of life pouring into her and imagined the pale skin with framing red curls. Yet, the staring eyes still felt empty, no matter how much blue my imagination would paint on them. Maybe she was betrayed and someone stole her heart. Maybe she was imprisoned in the glamour of the upper class or slaved by her own beauty. Shadows were approaching. Soon they would cover the reflections of the past into dark silk of the night. Maybe tomorrow someone would kiss her cheek and there would be a smile on the lips.

Oona Maria

On a mission to inspire the world through photos and stories.