She's a rough looking girl-- a curly haired, green-eyed, pale and pasty looking girl. She dreams in polaroids and pastels of greens and blues. If she takes her time, sometimes she can see into people's souls, through their eyes and all that. She can dance her way through the streets, not even receiving a single glance from the zombie like men and women who walk them. She's that girl who's there, but never there; her head always full of black ink that she happens to splatter on her clothes (just for fun.)
Call the critics, here she comes. Walking in that dazed and insane but completely down to earth sort of way. Sometimes she hums, but sometimes not. It depends on what choral song she's managed to listen to over and over and over again and then memorize it until it completely consumes her. She's a music fanatic, if you know what I mean. Oh, get this. She walks through fields of barely and corn, a daggar in her hand, because she only looks for the dandelions with seeds on them. She takes the knife and she cuts their heads off (and often sees someone cutting her own head of in her nightmares.) She makes crowns out of their heads.
Hey, look over there. She's at it again, painting on people's windows. She doesn't really care what they do or if they come cursing her to the depths, she just paints those little balloons, floating off into the distance of some sky. She told someone somewhere that her lover's out there in that sky, waiting for her to come. She said that he wants her to complete her life with good memories and goals finished before she even dares think of coming to him. She said something like, "I couldn't possibly get anything done when I'm thinking about someone who doesn't exist...yet."
She's quite the distant smiler. She doesn't show her teeth to just any stranger, especially those with bottles in hand and a limping swagger that doesn't quite match her personality. She has an instep of her own, left leg a bit longer than the right. She doesn't walk in the slightest like she's impaired, but treats it like a gift that she's been given for a benefit. This girl tends to take a little longer when she walks inside from the out, because she loves the moment when a butterfly fluttersby. She lives with no one, but she calls her own name inside, like a mother would, though she doesn't have that.
Her name is Danielle. I think. Go ask her.