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The grey curtains permit a sliver of sunshine to dance on her face, basking it in warmth and radiance before moving across her forehead and reaching the bridge of her nose dotted with tiny freckles – now visible. It dances and twirls, flitters and flutters before dripping from her lips like elegance, swift as the breeze. Flickering like a candlelight, ever so hesitantly, it nestles in her neck. It proceeds to coruscate, the rays reaching her bruised torso marked with battle scars. Each with a story, but it neglects them as it wraps around her body, highlighting every curvature – her dark skin glistens, it glows, and it glows. Like the fiery ball at dawn and dusk before it disappears. The sunshine finds a crevice in her soul, it illuminates the rugged edges of it before travelling down, down, down. It curls around her legs, making way for her knees, shining brightly – complementing her but never completing. It sighs and travels along her spine, leaving a hint of a luster on the small of her back before it traces the contours of her face and hops into her mind. The dance is over, the audience rises for applause. Sunshine stands and bows.
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