Face

It no longer bothered her that her face was like a shop window. Her eyes told stories wordlessly, so cruelly thrilling and kind at the same time. Few looked into her eyes. It was like reading your own mind. She put on her jacket, pulled up a hood, and stepped out. She turned her face to the rain. Closed her eyes. She felt the raindrops gently massaging her face and heard her own heartbeat. It was the only way to stop the rush of insistent thoughts for a while. With such a face, one feels like one is naked in thorns. Private collection