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Out of context: Reply #6098
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Yesterday, hot and public transport crowded. I woman wearing a tank top stood in front of me, hair up, facing away. Sweating, glistening really. In the silence and isolation of the railway car for our own good eroticism, any contact, is frowned upon. So I stared at her back where some strands of her hairs filigreed on her skin. At fisrt I thought it was a tattoo of a scribble, then maybe the left hand pen drawing of her lover spelling a name in a long sentence of endearment. It was just really long hair twisted back over itself across her back.
I have no idea what was happening on the recto.