Mylene – On the Terrace at Sèvres by Marie Bracquemond

On the Terrace at Sèvres by Marie Bracquemond

It is a warm Wednesday afternoon. The clock hand ticks slowly. A minute feels like eternity and an hour like time has surrendered to another dimension.

Mylene feels the weight of the years on her shoulders, it hurts her frail bones and arches her back like a useless arrow. She bends over and grips her parasol’s handle , preventing herself from falling over an imaginary deck overseeing the depths of the sea. Astonishment and amusement blend together in her stare, perplexing her friends.

Next to her, Sybille and Darris pretend the atmosphere  is airy, flabby on their metal chairs, they both gave up on posture and elegance. None of the three friends are facing one another. They are looking in different  directions, their eye-beams crisscrossing over the landscape, pensively observing the landscape ahead from their own perspective.

Blown away by the wind, time has evaporated. Mylene stills interrogates with her eyes, demanding answers to unspoken questions.

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