No; it was not her hair: it was a black stream of something oozing from her basket, mid it glistened like a slimy snake in the cold still rays of the moon.
At the sight of the frightening snake, my hair stood on end.
一看到那条可怕的蛇,我的头发都竖了起来。
3
Kathleen Kores, her pumpkin-colored hair flowing over a blazing red velour blouse, moved along the floor of her studio in Glastonbury the way a snake moves in the grass, smoothly and silently.