A little girl stands solemnly in her solitude, as still aand tranquil as the water around her. Clasped in her fingers are meadow flowers, whose stems unevenly pulled, droop in the confluence of colour. Her wavy, long, blond hair echoes with all her life and urge to explore beyond her margins. She wears a frilled dress which is patehed and frayed, worn with time. Her little boots, unlaced and ancient, reek of wanderings through the "Joie de vivre". On her face is worn an expression of sorrow. The girl's pupils flicker, halting cisterns of tiny water droplets.For she will never be replenished again. With the whispered words of a curse, she gave her last breath and transformed into stone. And now she stands on a pillar, overlooking a basin of water. For now she is "The mysterious Girl of the fountain"