Christina in Red

There, she sat untouched, sitting next to the depraved life boat that had gotten her across this heartless and demanding sea. Her body weak and spent as her red hair laid a top of her head, messy, she leaned against the boat and let her frail hands play with the rocks and sand along the beach as the waves ran up to lick her toes then retreat before coming back a few seconds later to do the same again. She was lost in the rythmic precussion of waves, the world ceased to exist behind the large cliffs which hid her haughtily. She was stuck in time, as if she yearns to join her aquatic brethrn. She is a patient witness, a stillness next to the ever-singing wind, sea, and clouds. She is the quietness beneath the yapping seagulls, a taste of perpetuation in a forver-changing place. She is...Christina in Red.

(Picture-Christina in Red, 1913.

Taken By: Auguste and Louis Lumière)