“They called her Mara meaning bitterness. Her real name was Gila. Every minute spent with her was a new story. Every second I longed to hear more. The traumas of her past were chronicles too sad to tell but she refused to be a sad tale.
Life had forged her into the perfection of beauty. She spoke with a harmony in her voice and a melody in her heart. I told her the final stroke of the paintbrush had touched the canvas. She smiled. Closed her eyes one last time. She was free. She had finally become infinite.”