As I continue to write the sequel to Blue Sun, I find it interesting how I continue to find water imagery popping up in my writing.  

The Pre-Raphaelite painting above is "Ophelia" by John Everett Millais.  It has long been my favorite.  

In Act 4, scene 7 of Hamlet, the queen recounts Ophelia's death.

" envious sliver broke, 
When down her weedy trophies and herself 
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide 
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up; 
Which time she chaunted snatches of old tunes, 
As one incapable of her own distress, 
Or like a creature native and indued 
Unto that element; but long it could not be 
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay 
To muddy death."

I love the resignation in Ophelia's face.  Her limp arms.  They show me her willingness to accept the natural fate that the water brings her and the relief that her woes in this life are about to be over.

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