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The Foreigner

- Abstract

I HAD seen the girl on the street near where we lived. Her face had been so layered with paint and powder that I couldn’t tell what it was really like; and her eyebrows and lashes, at least in their blackness and perhaps in their density, were obviously not her own. Her mouth appeared where it was, but both the shape and color had been made over. The eyes, ultramarine, were those of a lusty and crazy picture.



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