Jack Vettriano Study for Bluebird at Bonneville

Jack Vettriano Study for Bluebird at BonnevilleJack Vettriano Strangers In The NightJack Vettriano Still Dreaming
rocks, and she dipped her hands in it again and again, washing them clear of the mud and grime before lifting the water to her mouth. It was teeth-achingly cold, and she swallowed it with delight.
The pond was fringed with reeds, where a frog was croaking. It was shallow and warmer than the spring, as hair was stiff with dust and sweat. She looked at him for a long time, at the little pulse in his throat, at his chest rising and falling slowly, at the delicate shadows his eyelashes made when the sun finally reached them.
He murmured something and stirred. Not wanting to be caught looking at him, she looked the other way at the littlestill, so pale, that they might have been dead. Hunger had drawn the skin over their faces, pain had left lines around their eyes, and they were covered in dust and mud and not a little blood. And from the absolute passivity of their limbs, they seemed in the last stages of exhaustion.
Lyra was the first to