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Morning

Flâneuse watched the boy from the painting. The boy was solemnly assessing his coiffure, a mane unparalleled in Flâneuse’ interested observation. The boy from the painting darted his hands in, around, and out of the flames atop his crown in a sudden movement that spoke of the restraint necessary in taking his hair from unruly to half-tamed. Such hair must be treated as the finest pastry, the moment between perfection and destruction could rest in a fleeting pat. The boy from the painting rested his hands, and glanced at Flâneuse in the glass. Flâneuse rose slowly from the frame and brushed her ignescent tail around the boy’s ankle as they finished his toilet for the day.


Photo Credit: The Sartoralist; On the Street ... Redhead, Paris
With Thanks to Jennifer for the inspiration
22 September 2008

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