The entirety of the universe was weaved upon her hair, the depths of the earth resided in her eyes, her lips spoke of love and poetries, and with every breath she takes, a scent of lavender will linger through the air that will soon be taken away by the wind. But there was a crook in her smile and there was sorrow in her eyes. Her hands reached out to the sun and touched the untouchable, and she felt herself combusting under its blazing flames. Shades of crimson red and plum purple sprung out of her peach skin and she quivered from the pain that came with it. She wept to the moon and was cradled by the clouds. Soon enough, the clouds became heavy and she found herself dancing under the pouring rain blissfully.

And so she mastered different kinds of art; the art of the world, the art of nature, the art of emotions, and most importantly, the art of herself. Art has never been perfect- but it always has been beautiful.