She comes from a long line of women.
They all came in different forms, in different times, for different reasons.
They always went in the same way; as a ghost, into thick mist, traveling back and forth,
from this side of the veil to the other.
They call her ‘The Young Gustavia’
but that refers not to her true age.
For she is as old as the oak that stands firm in the fields,
hugging the forest.
Old as the words that are sent on thin air from the Gods to the poets.
Old as the love felt between lovers for centuries, expressed in ink on white sheets of paper,
moving mountains and oceans.
Old as the mountains and oceans themselves.
Old as the ashes that fell and covered Rome.

She is called The Young Gustavia only for it is her earthly skin and blush that is so fresh and delightful as the first snow covering the hillside in winter.
Her long silky hair as immaculate as the babes breath when he sleeps on his mothers bosom.

But when her eyes open, and they look into your soul, you can see endless time stretching out like vast oceans.
Ancestors speak through these lenses, offering us a glimpse into their hidden world.
They tell us through these lenses that they wait for us there,
that one day they will welcome us into their world.

That we are part of their story told,
and they of our story to be told.

This art doll is now available for adoption, you can find her in my shop