She was stretched on the grass for twelve hours, maybe more; she can't be able to remember it. Her memory had stopped at one indefinite time. Her skirt spread out as crushed flower petals; the blouse undoes to the breast. Her legs, negligently fold up, shows delicate ankles with brilliant red pumps. Only the eyes were open on a star-studded sky. Behind the mountains, the sun is getting a rise in a sparkle of unreal colors. Dew was on her eyelashes as diamonds on a tiara. Only one tear has slid along her temple as a sign of distress. The hair grouped in a perfect ponytail resting on her right shoulder. No move, no sound, no breath. Live has gone. She was twenty years old, perhaps.