In some microscopic detail of my days, you contributed to my present.
Though I rarely knew you, two years at best, memory transported me through time today when, this morning, I discovered you gone. Not only gone, but dust now. Dust, our days long dutiful destiny, but not for you, smashed to ash in the fastest moment. Your words, your work, your honour, your research, all smote in a second in a thoughtless chess move by some blind hand brushing your wing.
And, a baby boy, a year old, and a sister, and 295 nameless others whose faces wakened the world on forgotten front pages. To no…
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