There is my refuge Where fresh roses dance with their petals in the gentle breeze, and it is just me and a green nest away from any noise. It is as if the world outside has gone silent, and time has stopped moving in this small refuge. In the corner of this quiet solitude, a cup of tea steams on a wooden table, and the shadows of the flowers fall on the pages of my book. Every page smells of spring, and after a long time, I smile and my heart listens to its own beat without any fear.
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Women sometimes don't say anything... Because they don't think anything needs to be said They speak with their eyes, they speak the world, you should never ignore the eyes of any simple woman.
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More than a melancholic seascape, this painting is an eerie, mystical, folkloric depiction of the ambiguous threshold between life and death. At the center of the picture, an old woman, if you can call her old, embraces the motionless body of a young girl, but there is something deeply unnatural about her, her face pale, almost gray, with dark, deep-set eyes that seem devoid of human warmth, she is dressed in a long, black cloak that blends into the earth, a shadowy presence against the rugged coastline. She may be a grieving mother or a ghost or perhaps even Death herself, appearing in this form. The lifeless girl on the ground in bright clothes is in stark contrast to the ghostly woman, her delicate body suggesting lightness and weightlessness, her long hair falling from her shoulders, her face calm and as if caught in an eternal sleep. The sea right next to them is turbulent in purple, brown and white, and the waves attack the sharp rocks, as if some violence has taken the girl's life.
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