I emissary with my eager heart and souls a lounging womanhood across the sky. Without clothes or a silhouette, the picture is foggy. The mark is sharp creating a vignette. The woman I dream of, love life and go for doesnt even know how she lights my fire. Who am I? Peeping Tom, my unconscious states. I have no social function to do but dumbfound at my window and gaze. And the woman? Someone. Without a name or face. Pablo Picasso standardizeds to ring her Female au naturel(predicate). I reside in a high-rise apartment building. Female Nude lives in the complex opposite mine. That is how I met her through glass, between buildings, without an introduction. after a full day of school I lento arrive at position knowing that all the ordinary conviction consuming, teeth clenching, eye popping and head splitting homework awaits completion. She is my only breathe of relief. I do not call myself a spy; my eyes just like to digest. My eyes glance down to capti vate that it is 6:30 p.m. Right around the time she arrives into my day. Her skin is the first thing I jaw. Fast, harsh shapes of neutrals contain crèmes of taupe. Dark contour tones lift the slightest touch of blab to my eyes. The fitted shape of her body is abstract, unfluctuating and misdirected. The image of Female Nude appears so misguided.

The restricting curtains on her window distort the guess and motivate my imagination to documentaryly see her. Her body is depleted down into multiples of generalized basic shapes. The embonpoint in her shoulders is born-again into three straight lines. J ust forgetful of a ninety-degree angle. Her! upper body creates a large trilateral that points downward. This is the only real shape that I can see realistically and makes wizard to me. This shape contains the... If you want to get a full essay, coiffure it on our website:
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