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September 22, 2011
She looks magnificent with a cigarette hanging loose from her fingers and her patchwork skirt spread around her flea-bitten ankles. She has the eyes of an imp and the mind of a fairy tale come to life.

The pink has faded out of her hair, leaving streaks of it to be little more than tinted grey, and, somehow, it's perfect that way. There's only a few flecks of paint left on her nails, as if she painted them months ago and then forgot they existed. (That's probably exactly what happened, now that I think about it.)

She is beautiful.