hair weaving

An opposing coach yells out orders from the sideline as his players sprint in desperation to catch up to Jadyn Zdanavage’s streak of red hair weaving across the lacrosse field.

Baldwin is rubbing his head, but for all his talk of insanity he appears delighted, and when he strides from the room it’s with a vast, cartoony smile on his face, those sloped shoulders and that wedge of hair weaving out the door, towards the lifts, as he moves against the clock.

It does not include hair weaving or massage, or “the application of substances to others’ skin, including ... paints, dyes, and inks.”

Sibilla and her hair — weaving, dancing, whirling, whitening into old age — dominate the novel and give it its defining imagery, its infinitely variable leitmotif.

Laura was wearing this plain white top, her honey hair was long and loose, and despite the big belly she looked pure and sweet and clean, and I knew what I looked like—the bloody shirt, the broken face, the matted hair—weaving my way across her shiny kitchen.