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She was the second daughter of a glowing single mother. She was the brightest of them all, or so she appeared to some.
Her days were long, her years were short. She was beautiful, immortal perhaps. Turning slowly, against the odds.
She was aware of her unstoppable transformation. She was the definition of what many wanted to be. Even an incomplete image of her was still an incredibly beautiful idea.
Tonight she softly rested her eyes on the city of Basel.
In the back room, behind a green curtain, Hans was thinking about a hollow bone. Or so she thought...

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This page contains a single entry by Witold published on August 6, 2003 11:50 PM.

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