It is an addictive sport of dyeing hair ash brown, cinnamon, Cappuccino. A God sent renewal of dyeing the new growth and keeping the friendly old.

The silver is washed in a maple syrup with plastic gloves and water.

A hope of multi-dimensional luminosity in a box.

The deluge of muddy waters drenches my white legs and feet.

Then the flowing water once again turns clear and I use the creamy ivory conditioner to detangle the thick web of strands.

The stains on the green shower curtain are permanent mathematical shapes.

Since the fifth grade, this hair coloring rinse has been as frequent as a menstrual cycle.

A new shade of me every month.

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