I once heard about his one true love, she was uniquely beautiful, asthuning, she couldn't be defined as nothing concrete, because she was everything. He wasnt able to have her all, because she was from everyone and from anyone. Independent but always sourronded by different types of people, she never was alone. Irreverent,ungrateful and sometimes cruel with those who worshiped and lived for her. She knew love, jealousy, rage, sadness but never really felt on her bones any of those feelings. She knew how to please and conquer those who observed her.
She lived on the hands of Michelangelo, Monet, Rembrant,Brunelleschi, Pisarro... And in every different way she was beautiful.
She is not any women who needs presentation,she is the lady of the thousand costums and colours and she is called art.