When I was a little girl I was quiet and pensive; given to staring into the eyes of adults rather than answering their questions. When I was littler still, I hid myself behind the skirt of my mother. My mother. The prettiest, most wonderful creature. She sometimes wore a silk scarf and her dark hair made me feel silly in my yellow head. I liked to look at her, I watched up at her while she brushed her hair. It…

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