The hanged woman seems to have a secret. The blue glow of her eyes gives her the air of someone who knows something we don't. She has learned how to let go of the normal filters of awareness and find comfort in discomfort. She has learned to become an ocean, full of rage and power and beauty and life. She spoke pain, breathed life, and lived like art. It's what she was. She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice, it was supposed to make you feel something. She would make the world feel her pain.