“She is the life blood of Passionate Fire, mingled with a peculiar superstitious Nature. Celeste easily beguiles men, both nefarious and reputable alike. A Gypsy spirit without question. I too am infatuated with her, which is why I do not trust her.”
Celeste stands in The Garden. Tall, beautiful, and proud.
Celeste walking. . .
Against the wind one chilly evening in Paris. She readies her scarf as the wind continues to strengthen while a storm looms on the horizon.
As the Sun. . .
Rises Celeste greets a Little Black Bird that flies into her hands.
Celeste Swipes. . .
Inspector Durans hat as a personal trophy.
Celeste’s Vignettes
Our world, just as any other is not so much made up tremendous events, and grand scenes, but also little things, tens of thousands of little apparent insignificant things that make up the subtle frameworks of people’s lives.