Like the alluring frangipani bloom, exquisitely beauteous on its own, she bears the weight of herself, alone. Without conceit, without pride, she remains perched on that ancient, crumbling terrace, observing passerby below. Exuding an air of aloof stoicism, she stays resilient and silent. No one knows her story, nary a friend to call her very own. The zephyr brings echoes of salacious intrigues and uncouth blunders from elusive sources of questionable repute, yet all those persist as mere gossip. For, she does not speak, she will never give them the satisfaction of voicing out her identity, or her truth.

5000 x 5000 px.