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Eyes of periwinkle pools, circled and swam with flecks of gold and brown and green, like autumn leaves, floating and twirling in the gentle current. Her tears, cold and white, slid down her dry, clean face like streams of pure ice rivers down curved mountains of beauty. Rouge lips of rose petals opened and closed, with elegant shyness, as the sounds of vocal sobs caressed the sides of her mouth. The body to which curves and circular protrusions pronounced themselves, knelt and writhed and heaved and shuddered onto the harsh stone floor, that spun and threw the air from the lungs of the breathers. It quenched the thirst and sight and breath of the trees outside in the clear, clean cut air, which came from God. The room, filled from the sky to the bottom of the earth, caught and diminished the heat, the breath, the life from the world.