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An ominous opening line from one of the very first dystopian novels I read in high school.
The Clocks Were Striking Thirteen is the metallic bronze of clock gears, shot through with diamond flake, holo flakes, and iridescent chameleon flakes that flash neon green.
Swatch courtesy of [email protected], [email protected]
Lacquester Is It Angel or Ange?
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Illyrian Polish Aquila
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Bee’s Knees Pointed Of Teeth
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Femme Fatale Spangled Starlight
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