Journey into the Mind, Part 6

As she lay there, the only soul in sight simply stood and took a picture. As she lay there, a perfectly dead beauty of a woman who seemed to have simply fallen from heaven, no one called for help or aid; the one man, simply existing there, took a picture. She was elegant, and by the expression on her face, had died peacefully. Her blond hair almost seemed to spread out like great golden waves of the ocean, and her face looked to be as soft as the finest silk. And yet, the lone observer only took a picture.
How she died is unknown to anyone; there was no blood, no bruises, no cuts, no scrapes, and no fear in her face. To the observer, however, nothing else mattered other than the serenity of her pose, the eyes-wide-open, emotionless, arms spread docility of her final pose. The observer knelt beside her, getting a close-up of her face. He felt no compassion and no urge to act. She was dead, he thought, and calling the police now or later would not make a difference. What entranced him was the beautiful simplicity of her face, as if she were still alive and posing for him in some kind of disturbing photo shoot. After the observer took his pictures, he stood up, turned on his heels and walked away calmly.