Some would call her drifter, though unfitting for a person that never travelled. It was about the way she disconnected from everything around her. The way she could make you feel like, though in front of you, she was in a distant land. Magic eyes of wonder, captivated everyone around her. A deep sense makes her seem well travelled, and it is hard to believe this city is all she knows, that these boats, this sea was the only backround she had ever appeared in front of. She rarely spoke, but when she did her accent was unlike anyone there, unlike any accent anyone had ever heard. Just slight, clean lined through the few sentences she conveyed daily. If they had not seen her grow up before them, the adults would never believe she was from their town, their very uninspiring town.
Some would say she was the beam amongst their darkness, even though her skin was uninviting to the sun and she shown in person semi-grey. It was her paintings and stories that was her brightest point. Drawing pictures of places that had never been seen, and storylines that included emotions that were undescribable.
She would say she was their martyr, forced to lay her life in a place she never belonged. To mesmerize them through their sadness, and dazzle them through their sorrow. She was the necessity when none of their children came back. They needed distraction, they needed her stories… she was their martyr. To never see the visions come to life, to know that it all existed, and to die aware that she was the only one that knew.
Words and Photo Created By: E Sepulveda
