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Jane Doe

11/9/2015

 
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She was seen on the side of the road. 

Faded jeans, T-shirt hanging by two threads, and a black hoodie. She was walking with a slight limp, her stride a crooked one. Unwashed, uncombed, and untidy, her red-brown hair was sporadically hanging on her scalp. 

What once was a beautiful woman was now a very bummed homeless wanderer. 

And then she was seen, in another state, in a hair-salon. 

Expensive clothes, her black hair in a classy vintage updo, and her nails clean and painted. She had been talking to her hairdresser about her built, nearly finished career as a lawyer. 

She was unashamed about her pretty face, and loved to flaunt it around. 

These women are the same. 

In the state, they go by the name Jane D.:

'My name is Jane. Jane Doe. I have many faces, many names. I'm noone and yet everyone. I'm all over the world and still not of this world. I'm not a person, yet I am many women. I have no real life, for I live many. I have no one to love, or to love me. I am just a name, without a face… No, I am a name with a thousand faces. My name is Jane. I am everywhere. I am everyone. I do everything.' ​
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