You look at the works
that tend to be art,
twisting the lines of fragile thighs,
Happy in ignorance of bittersweet tart,
of own artsy appearance.
(entered 12/27/05)
(I recall this beautiful girl appearing and disappearing in the halls of this museum. I think she was there with someone, probably her mother, because she kept looking terribly bored and terribly beautiful at the same time.)
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