You come across a face that narrates a beautiful tale.
You look at and still look at, trying to decipher all nonchalantly, as if time is now a redundant concept.
You realize then the fallacy of those who preached about the abstractness of timelessness.
Oh! Only had they looked at the way you did, they would have known; it's real and palpable.
The contours, the features, the amalgamation of colours- It seems like the perfect fulfillment of a connoisseur's dream.
You keep on thinking.
They had also preached, "Never be enamoured. Flesh is evil."
And you murmur, "Yeah, it is and I'm the devouring devil."