PHOTOGRAPHERS: MERT and MARCUSHer thoughts were so dark and confused they looked like the black squiggles made out of boredom in a school book. There were times when her life followed the ruled lines like a perfect sentence, and perhaps this may have happened more often had her tears not soaked the paper into a blue blotchy mess and washed the lines away. She usually kept close to the margins, speaking in soft italics among the bold and capital. But she compensated for this by being breathtakingly beautiful.
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