Friendly Geographical Adjustment
This is just a short little essay about hair. I was bored in writing class. Not much else to say about it. Enjoy.
As I am writing this, there is a boy sitting across from me with a fire engine-red mohawk shaved onto his head. It looks like a racing stripe, or a cardinal's crest, or like someone painted a strip of grease on his head and lit it on fire when he wasn't looking. The girl next to him seems to be petting it.
There's a girl on the other side of the room with dark hair, but she has streaks of orangey-bronze dyed into it. It reminds me a little of waterfalls that go over cliffsides in separate streams. Most of her face is hidden behind it, and what is visible is blank, like the rock wall behind a waterfall.
My own hair keeps falling in my eyes as I write. Maybe I should cut it.
I am getting it cut, actually. Tomorrow. And dyed. Possibly purple! No, Leone. Just no. Aww.
As I am writing this, there is a boy sitting across from me with a fire engine-red mohawk shaved onto his head. It looks like a racing stripe, or a cardinal's crest, or like someone painted a strip of grease on his head and lit it on fire when he wasn't looking. The girl next to him seems to be petting it.
There's a girl on the other side of the room with dark hair, but she has streaks of orangey-bronze dyed into it. It reminds me a little of waterfalls that go over cliffsides in separate streams. Most of her face is hidden behind it, and what is visible is blank, like the rock wall behind a waterfall.
My own hair keeps falling in my eyes as I write. Maybe I should cut it.
I am getting it cut, actually. Tomorrow. And dyed. Possibly purple! No, Leone. Just no. Aww.