Almost every day she leaves her hideout and searches the city for any scrap or thread or pinch of color she can find. She spends her night shadowed in flickering candle light and creating a world she can almost see herself living in. There’s music, love she can handle and art that doesn’t hurt except for when you want it to.
Every inch of her tiny, cramped, humid apartment is covered with a mark she created. Bold brush strokes of paint tell of an anger that will never die and delicately sketched scenes show a life that could never be hers. It’s not enough but she tells herself its all she needs.