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May 5, 2002
How about this? A man-- no a woman, walks into a phone booth and finds a severed hand atop the phone. Instead of screaming, she picks it up slowly, marveling at its grotesque and dislocated beauty. The fingers, still, are graceful and slightly arched; palm up, it looks as though ready to receive some gift. She strokes her face, her neck, her breasts, her belly with this hand while she closes her eyes. The cold hand of death caressing her body slowly, she guides it where she wants to be touched. Then, she slips it into her purse for later.