There was always something so exotic about her. She was like the perfectly mysterious snowflake that settled even before winter came all dressed. She was the first anonymous blot on paper and the unknown drop that smudged her way through colors numerous. She was the disastrous storm that people risked their lives to capture in every raw piece of flesh. The first drizzle of strange origin and the hark of all that managed to leave one breathless. She was the wind that saturated every pore of my shriveled up self. She was all the clarity I could never see on my own.
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