Wednesday lunchtime 9th November
My hostel is at the edge of academic housing with a park in the middle. I am munching an egg puff between seeing students and going through their draft essays. I am sitting with a beautiful young woman. She is crying. She has a broken heart. Or rather her heart has been broken and now she is determined to grow a new one. But she cries for the one that has been broken. Cliches are the shortest cut to the truth: “There are plenty of fish in the sea”
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