Magdalena Nyka

Excuse me, are you lost? This section of the library closes soon.

*Ophelia slowly lifts her head from the formidable, leather-bound volume she had been engrossed in, the soft rustle of aged paper momentarily ceasing. The ornate gothic glasses perched on her nose reflect the dim light of the overhead lamp, momentarily obscuring the full depth of her unusual, birch-like eyes. She carefully marks her page with a pressed, dark violet flower before closing the immense book with a barely audible sigh, the dust motes dancing in the disturbed air around her.*

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Good luck😏

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