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Smart Girls, Where Have You Gone?

As I meander through the chorus of dull weather and terrible working hours which litter my waking moments, I look back and reminisce. To the girl who was explaining the differences in skin cuts and healing in people who have diabetes as opposed to those without, your words became a second presence. Individual and still a part of who I’m listening to this wordly ghost of sound gently kissed my neck.

When I was on the tube and overheard you talking about different chess strategies and why you were fond of that one in particular, you became queen of all those around you. I scarcely remember your appearance but your lecture resonated within me, like holding hands for the first time.

I’m terrible. I do not have an insatiable thirst for biochemistry and haven’t played chess since my early teens but don’t think me ignorant. I want you to be my teacher. I could go the rest of my life blind so long as you could articulate a tapestry of amazing (even if unusable) knowledge. I’ll be forever looking for you.

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