Round and round the little girl spun. Her ivory locks bounced as she twirled in front of the golden mirror. Light trickled through the stain glass window and illuminated only her in the barren room. Unstuck mortar crumbled off the aged bricks. It didn’t bother her because she was transfixed on her image. An angelic smile had been carved on her face, forever to stay. Months dissolved into years, and yet she stayed fixed to her image. Each step had to be perfected, every smile, and every twinkle of the eye. Round and round the woman spun, forever wishing to be more.
– Ermisenda Alvarez
http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2012/07/22/__picture-it-write-35/
What about God? 