
Your mother’s hair used to be a mass of fine threads that touched the back of her shoulders, curving into a cluster of curls. She fed them thick portions of cheap oil each morning, scrubbed hard then softly, with hair brush. Once, she said, “When yours grow, Miriam, a man will find it attractive, then […]
from Brittle Paper http://ift.tt/2oLEjbC
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