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She wore her violet flat bouquet hat. She flies on the back of the seas, to find the marine blue, the abandonment blue, the one at the bottom of your eyes. She is a travel notebook that speaks of passing love stories. She is like the flower and the bird ; as simply beautiful as ephemeral. She is that taste of salt that stays on the skin, that little taste of hope and evasion that gives her whispers the appearance of a storm.