Sunday, 24 March 2019

She was an artless candour

She was an artless candour from an aristocratic lineage. Her arrogant imposition was an ascetic devotion for the many that devoted themselves to her elegance. She was astute, a genius beyond her time, who always had about her a balanced capacity about the vagueness that men held on life.

Her azure sky always fragranced with an impressive appeal, drawing in the simple and the ambiguous and smooth; a commonplace modesty maligned with a bad omen. She was in one sense a beatific vision, a long beauty befitting the beckoning horizon.


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