For starters, this is just so shaped, there's so many details but none of them are crumpled and the symmetry within the frame is impeccable, with her armoured image and with the lilies and with a lush faraway road amidst the trees,
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and with her figure so relaxed within a resting place where no danger shall ignite and no hostile world shall open its maw, vulnerable but for no one bar herself, indulging her curiosity in peace and serenity,,
I love how asymmetric is the upper middle of the frame, with those old, intertwined trees that still let enough light through that the image sings peace instead of a threat,
and i adore how the poem you chose calls out to the public high and mighty and eternal, and to all of us as well, stating that the love for Her was there before them, paving soft roads before her, wherever she may wish to travel in her ultimate freedom,,
I know not whose hand this is that doesn't belong to her, but i can bow to how tenderly they hold eachother and how light and meaningful is their touch. I know not why the eye on her armour is fractured, either, be it freedom of her fate or a victory over a mighty foe,
but the determination and pride in her gaze make it seem almost celebratory, with the cup and the flagpole in her hands and warriors bowing to her with hands clasped as if in prayer
And i love how the eye pattern on the giant halo seems to belong to her, all turned outwards as her gaze is, yet who stands behind it back to back with her? The past, the present, the future? Another fate of hers, or a mirror? A for or a friend? Or a something that doesn't exist?
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