Naomi Ragen - Even her hair, she thought, running her fingers impatiently through the dam

Even her hair, she thought, running her fingers impatiently through the damp golden brown ringlets that curled romantically around her face. A Botticelli angel, a boy in college once called her, begging her to let it grow. Right! That was all she needed: wild curls cascading down her back like a doomed Shakespearian virgin, or a rock star.

- Naomi Ragen

source: Naomi Ragen (2001). “The Ghost of Hannah Mendes”, p.70, Macmillan

topic: Music, Running, Stars, Damp, Botticelli