botticelli girl
I don't have the words to describe her. She is a child walking in the world of grown-ups, the spotless virgin hiding her secrets in a bloody bag tied beneath her skirt. She is Red Riding Hood after the wolf, lithe Fideal lurking in deep water. . . the perpetual innocence in her eyes distracts us from the knife in her hand.
She is my Botticelli girl.
She is my Botticelli girl.