George loved the way the patterns in the butterflies’ wings shimmered and shifted when caressed by the sun. But he was content to view them from a distance. As he always had. Of course, on occasion he was touched by the fleeting temptation to trap one. Just one. To get a closer look. To actually feel the gossamer beauty, to bathe in the colours, to enjoy the precision of their design. But no. He knew that one touch could kill. And it was the playful weightlessness of their flight that captivated him so.
SOLD – Personal couture on request