Standing alone, the ethereal figure of Lilly captivates the cobblestone Italian village as twilight bathes her in soft golden hues. Her long chestnut hair cascades like a shimmering waterfall down her back, and she cradles an antique mother-of-pearl fan. A delicate pearl choker graces her neck as she stands in her ethereal ensemble, lost in thought, her gaze drifting towards the horizon where the last vestiges of the sun's golden glow are swallowed by the encroaching darkness of night.
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