La Via da Qui

Floorboards: old, dusty, the white gravel/sand from outside has trodden its way in. Nobody in here speaks and the silence is meditative, broken only by the scritch-scratch of pencils, crayons, charcoal scampering across the textured pages of people’s sketch pads. The walls are adorned with black and white drawings and Ella, our model, lies in repose in the room's centre. She is beautiful. The has long golden hair that catches the light, fanning from her crown in disarray. Her eyebrows are dark and expressive, framing her long dark lashes and arching towards each other above her delicate little snub nose. Her lips are a deep rose that is echoed in her areolae. The light rests on her skin, allowing the encroachment of soft shadows over her stomach, onto her thighs, between her fingers and around the flare of her nostrils. An orange ring sparks with a bright point of brilliance, as though it is the true light source of the room. She is delicate, quiet, relaxed, and her childish