This was the first time I thought of S— that day. Her music was beautiful, her voice was beautiful, her body was beautiful. Even the dirty little pads of her feet were beautiful. I cursed myself then. For once, heaven had sent me Beauty in its most perfected form and I abandoned it. She might not have been a girl after all but an angel: a force to guide me on this hazardous path of life I hurry down. How can life be hazardous if it can only end in death?

Roman Payne

Tags: life truth girls women romantic beauty life-lessons life-and-living novel life-and-death angel romanticism keats barcelona roman-payne the-wanderess feminity truth-inspirational beauty-is-truth wanderess

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