Character: Natalie. Page 1

There are three kinds of crying. One is loud, with wailing bitter tears, and copious snot, crying from the category of "look what you did to me", which is executed before the guilty boyfriend, reap the bitter fruits of his cruelty and forever doomed to a relentless manifestation of care. The second quietly, with a headache and an insane facial expression, crying in the name of complacency: luxury, strictly speaking, necessary when the tear ducts remain completely dry. When you genuinely believe that they deserve the right to cry, and strongly motivated to invoke pity for myself. And finally, the third is mournful, muffled cry, something like the weeping Madonna (in the sense of the virgin Mary is I update for the sake of clarity): when the face of a cruel world flowing innocent tears of sorrow, sadly slipping on the face and easily (your image in this case is too humble and meek, to take advantage of the scarf) dripping on the monastic wimple.