54 of 365
The porcelain face was frozen in observation. The deep red lips eternally mute, the green eyes in constant memorization of the passersby. The girl was sitting on the grass, caressing the doll’s face from the temple, down the jawline, to the tip of the chin. She paused briefly to circle the chipped ear and then ran her fingers through the doll‘s auburn curls. To the girl, the doll was priceless, it was all she had left from a life long gone.