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June 16, 2008
As I close my eyes, my senses open to the comforting, muffled sounds of the salon, and its sweet, sickly smells. Half-heard conversations and the hum of hairdryers surround me as I sink deeper into meditation, waking my senses and reaching out to those warm, expert hands and the cool, sharp tools, snip snip snip. When I open my eyes, finally, I sigh at the mirror, and I start longing for the next time I can relax in the warm, expert hands, like a lover's. Don't tell my hairdresser; she'll get spooked out. Or, do you think, they know...?