April 23, 2010:
I don't recognize her.
Skinny, blonde hair dyed black, matronly shawl. Dry skin. Nothing of her there except the pain in her eyes, and the bags beneath.
That must be what she wants, I don't know.
I have a different photo of her, years and years and years ago, arms crossed, pigtails, perfect skin, brighter than the bright sun, smiling. Beauty so perfect it's unworldly. Same eyes, same bags.
It should be illegal for some people to ever age.