Mother of the Hollow Field
Each dusk, she walks the fields where no birds sing. The mask is not a disguise - it's her true face now. Flowers bloom where her fingers pass, but they wither into ash by dawn. No one knows her name, only the curse:- Look upon her once, and something inside you forgets how to live.
Dimensions: 16cm x 20cm
will be sold - unframed.
