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the photograph She wasn't doing a thing that I cou

the photograph She wasn't doing a thing that I could see, except being there in the photograph, smiling elegant in Holi colours. The red on her cheek competed to match the red on her lips. The eyes promised a mirthful youth despite occasional wears and tears. And the perfectly symmetrical face brought some delight to the one craving the highest delight.

Her hair must have cascaded slowly, almost divinely, to touch the patterns of her white dupatta; in the most glorious wonder of some complicated simplicity. Her photograph was the microtale within a story. And the genius in her being brought some meaning to the one craving to figure it all out.

She was in just another photograph, smiling like always. But for the man, she was the source of joy; a joy that is often missed among the overflowing moments in time. Among all the red, blue, green and yellow; she was just a girl, smiling elegant in Holi colours. 

She wasn't doing a thing that I could see... but she did so much more.
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the photograph She wasn't doing a thing that I could see, except being there in the photograph, smiling elegant in Holi colours. The red on her cheek competed to match the red on her lips. The eyes promised a mirthful youth despite occasional wears and tears. And the perfectly symmetrical face brought some delight to the one craving the highest delight.

Her hair must have cascaded slowly, almost divinely, to touch the patterns of her white dupatta; in the most glorious wonder of some complicated simplicity. Her photograph was the microtale within a story. And the genius in her being brought some meaning to the one craving to figure it all out.

She was in just another photograph, smiling like always. But for the man, she was the source of joy; a joy that is often missed among the overflowing moments in time. Among all the red, blue, green and yellow; she was just a girl, smiling elegant in Holi colours. 

She wasn't doing a thing that I could see... but she did so much more.
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