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Did I dream it, imagine it? the beauty of a ghost? what kind of whim is this? an illusion, I can't sleep, or am I daydreaming while awake? it's her again, gliding, invisible, transparent, yet still beautiful! beautiful, right? her silks are ephemeral, illusory, flowing in waves behind her, reigning in space arrogantly, superbly, sometimes disappearing as if into memory, only to reappear moments later in a form now visible, but elusive, to the eye, moving along the shelves of ancient books, only the flickering candlelight in the dimness from the bronze candelabrum, the sole source of light, marking her presence, casting reflections on the walls, creating a mood of soul agitation, to the ceiling, and to the narrow staircase, mysteriously arching upwards, to where the secret door hides the world from which she appears, disturbing my peace, sparking thoughts about the perfection of the spirit, searching for the lost book of books, her beauty, in its unknowable phantom nature, captivates, initially frightening, and one can never get used to it.
A full-length vertical shot depicts a young blonde woman in a flowing translucent white gown, appearing ghostly, floating in a grand, ancient library with vaulted ceilings and towering wooden bookshelves packed with old books. She leans back with her arms extended, looking up towards a bright light streaming from a high arched window at the top of a wooden staircase in the background. A golden candelabra with three lit candles stands in the lower left foreground, casting a warm glow. The floor is covered with stone tiles and a patterned rug. The overall atmosphere is ethereal and mystical, with dust motes dancing in the sunbeams.
