Her dress changed as she fell, sometimes looking futurestic like a Startrek uniform, other times ornate and beaded like so overwrought vision of a Elizabethan dress,
The body underneath changed too, sometimes looking young and new-made: steel fresh from the factory, other times her age showed as patches of rust and unbending joints.

Her tongue stuck out of her mouth and tasted the oilly rain around her, and she ran a hand through her now straw-like and crinkly hair, her face lined with age, its ethnicity shifting from second to second.

-Samantha Fox (Finding Our Self #5)

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