They say that perfection is impossible. They have tried so many times to achieve it, so many different ideas. The perfect being is the perfect soldier, the perfect being is the greatest thinker, but all those people would have been wrong by looking upon the woman.

To look into her eyes would be the equivalent of staring at the edge of creation, beautiful, awe-inspiring,and yet somehow frightening. They were his eyes, the soft purple that seemed to almost shine with radiance, but yet, they weren’t, as they seemed to be holding back tears within her eyes. Her face was gentle, and it’s beauty was only enhanced by the look of sorrow and desperation on her face, and her lovely light brown hair which was unlike anything this world can contain.

As Isaac began to space out and look down towards the floor in shock, he could tell something, she was starving. Her body was, thin, fragile, so thin that one could almost make out her rib cages over her loose white shirt.