Strolling along the shore with the poise of a Jane Austen heroine, The Windswept Wanderer is lost in thought… or maybe just trying to remember if she locked the door. With her fiery hair dancing in the breeze and a single flower in hand, she’s the embodiment of poetic solitude. Don't disturb her — she’s either composing sonnets or imagining the most dramatic way to walk back into town.