Gone
She exists behind closed doors. An open field, on the edge of a moor. Her stare belies her hardened heart. Her soul in fragments. She has lost faith.
Never happy. Never understanding. Never accepting her sadness. She walks every evening at sunset. She remembers her life before sacrifice and regret.
She's not Catherine Deneuve any more.
Never happy. Never understanding. Never accepting her sadness. She walks every evening at sunset. She remembers her life before sacrifice and regret.
She's not Catherine Deneuve any more.
