She looked beautiful with her damp hair clinging to her face.
Her long, dark hair clung to her neck and cheeks.
Some were quite fresh, for the hair still clung to the skulls, others blanched and old.
Her hair clung to her head in a damp helmet.
He was kneeling, his long black hair clinging to his shoulders.
Her damp hair clung to her face like black vines.
His hair, darkened by the rain, clung to his head.
Once there was a man who carried a stick that he swirled in a stream until a hair clung to it.
When she looked up at him he could see how the sweat on her brow made her hair cling.
