Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
genius,right here.I call this one "Green-Eyed VeryClose",because of her piercing eye shown,as well as the varicosity(?) of the story and trails the slashing lines tell.Beautiful and telling,as all great art is.DIG IT!