So, the last time we saw Anna, she was in the process of cultivating a finely shorn look for summer, probably. It was a simpler time back then, back before her warm-weather jaunt to the Temple of Doom, where she clearly acquired a diabolical taste for sugary cereals served out of actual human skulls. So enchanted is she by this all-consuming bonelust that she does not even realize the wind has blown off her clothes. Why do the young people still insist on vacationing in those terrible catacombs?
(Cheek piercings by Jon Pitcher at Profound Piercing in Glastonbury, England.)