I was quite infatuated with this stone angel. Her wing was broken. Her arm was broken. Yet she still had a beautiful look of peace upon her face. I wonder about the artist that sculpted her. I wonder how they looked at a piece of stone and found a way to create such a lovely, soft, calm presence out of such hard rock.
I wonder sometimes what that means for me? Could I soften my rough edges a little better? Can I embrace the weathering process of age? Can I be a calm peaceful presence? Can I stop finding pleasure in the minor chaos that always seems to rattle around in my head and heart?
Would I be Medusa?!
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