I entered the antique clothing store and saw the dress hanging in the window. White, halter neck and full skirt as I watched the full skirt pressed down at the knees and billowed up at the back Marilyn Munroe’s ghost playing with the breeze from the vent. Echoes of her laughter spilling through the dusty quiet enticing me to come and experience the fun. I went to the dress, took it off its hanger and took it to the counter. Today a piece of Marilyn was coming home with me.
Image: Dancing on the edge of time
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