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Her face appears calm, her clothing perfectly in place. Yet her hand tells a different story. Resting on her shoulder is another hand—one that does not seem to belong to anyone visible in the frame.
The fingers are unusually long, positioned at an awkward angle, as if emerging from nowhere. No arm connects it to a body. No shadow explains its presence. Once you notice it, it becomes impossible to ignore.
Still, the hand’s placement feels deliberate, almost intimate, as though whoever it belonged to wanted to be remembered.
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