Her face is open, almost luminous in its honesty - the colour held in her cheeks like something felt rather than applied. There is no attempt to smooth or disguise the moment she is in.
The collar gathers around her like something protective, but it does not close her off. She remains visible. Present. Unhidden.
There is a quiet tension in her - not weakness, but exposure. The kind that comes from feeling deeply and choosing not to retreat from it.
Clara belongs to Her Kind - women who remain open, even when it would be easier not to.
