Descriptive Essay About A Beautiful Girl

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An autumn afternoon, a watercolor sunset streaked muted pastel shades across the sky. It was a bitingly cold chill that belonged to winter. My eyes were focused on the Manhattan skyline, a beautifully grotesque thing. Nature, half obscured by looming manmade structures. I wasn 't sure what was uglier. What an outlandish thought, to find nature so unnerving.
I had been so preoccupied by my own devices that I hadn 't noticed a small girl on a crumbling concrete stoop, her eyes intently focused on me . Her attention followed me as my body weaved through people like water over stones, a gift only New Yorkers possessed. I was drawn to her, naturally. The way her hair fell like waves pulling out to sea, the harsh wind whipping it from her face. How
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Close enough to see the faded scar that split her cheekbone in half, the sadness that had taken residence inside of her. She looked as if she was in between. Not quite a child anymore, but still too young to be an adult. I had forgotten what it was like to be young. To understand. But she hadn 't. I wondered when I had started seeing people like her as small and young.
The bustle was approaching her resting place, and from this distance, I knew that she was lost inside of herself. An actress in her own life. I had felt like that once. We were in such close proximity that, if attempted, I could reach out and grab her arm. I could feel the hostility radiating off her. There were cobwebs in her mind where her imagination lay dormant. I could smell ash and dead roses on her skin, like a funeral. She was a funeral. She tilted her chin towards me, a challenge. I ducked my head and kept walking. I had passed her, what a coward. Treading faster, I was determined to go somewhere, anywhere, before the sun fell from the sky. The crowds pushed towards a long row of shops, and I decided to make my way into a small coffee
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People. People rushing to go nowhere and everywhere all at once. Adolescents passing a cigarette back and forth, the smoke from their mouths carrying into the violent colors of the setting sun. A man carrying a briefcase, a phone to his ear, completely unaware of the existence of other people. A group of students wasting their few precious memories on whiskey and vodka, thinking, hoping, that this was all life had to offer. A steaming cup slammed onto the table, startling me from my thoughts. The girl from the street slid herself into the booth across from me, curiosity sparked in her

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