Funerals

Her eyes holds no pleasant memory, it is as though she has never lived. The doctor could not find any pulse. She is a music enjoyed only in funerals. She is crying loudly inside her shell, if you paid more attention than you could afford, you may hear the silence that comes from her room, echoes of nothing. No man has that much attention to pay, they are all broke on attention. So she sits, waiting for another funeral.

Photos originally taken my me.