Deep purple lines shoot up across the curve of my hips like fireworks curving upwards into the autumnal night sky, their tails fading into a light pink trace that disappears into nothing. Beside them, more difficult to make out, are the pale silver indentations of the marks that came before them. Soon, the mixtures of purple, red and pink will join these silver scars and be replaced by new lines dancing towards my waistline like shooting stars, each one wonderfully unique. I marvel at their painless arrival, decorating my pale body without intrusion.
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