A Portrait of an Unknown Number of Faces


I never thought the sight of disembodied hair ...

Change (Photo credit: rockygirl05)

The parting of her hair depended on how it settled when she came out from the shower in the morning. Sometimes she would preach passionately on some large subject and when asked about it later, shrug her shoulders. It was ordinary for her to change her clothes more than three times a day.

She was a ray of sunshine one moment and a snowstorm the next. Small children had trouble counting her faces.

The only thing constant about her was change, and she always went where the wind took her.

One thing she never did was complete her stories and her life became one long row of beginnings.

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