ONE-MINUTE LOVE (An insignificant attempt to reproduce my irrevocably lost story)
Defused cold light streams from the big rectangular window. Twenty-six inches of off-white wall below the windowpane is the crest of her wavy hair. Blond open curls cascade down to the top of her shoulders. She wears a buttoned white blouse with long sleeves. The freefalling Renaissance texture of her golden hair contrasts stringently with the whiteness of her blouse. Her face slightly tilted to the right looks down. The three parallel horizontals divide her physiognomy in unviolated scapes of unsullied expression. The well-proportioned forehead section evidently doesn't contradict her prism of the mind. Unauthorized streak of hair naughtily curtains her right eyebrow.