Time and fire.
Once it’s been a princess with smooth skin, lustrous hair. Metal bracelets, especially fashioned, adorned her exquisite wrists. An iron belt passionately circled her lithe waist.
Now she’s as old as a crone. Grey, woolly rags cover her bare bones and two belts are needed to hold her together. Her face so wrinkled, one can barely see the slits of her eyes. Only her mouth gapes open. In prayer.