From up in the tinsel town hills, she could see the old spotlight down below and thought how every gesture of herself was formed by this town's sighs and claps, but then, with age, the tyranny of the tiredness in the everydayness of her life began, and this muddied her rose colored glasses, and now, like a game of hide-and-go-seek she looks for herself in the vinegar smelling celluloid.

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