The title is not deceiving at all. Write enough, and for long enough, then eventually, writing really becomes filling up a lot of maverick letters that come with astonishing mood swings. I don’t know the joys or sorrows of synaesthesia, but my letter M sure looks like a balding man at times, (somehow I always tend to associate hypertrichosis pinna with this mental imagery too) and a ravishing, well dressed, hat-donning gentleman with a carved cane in another.
And today, upon a chance visit to the Eclampsia Ward in the Obstetrics Dept. of the hospital, my friend and I were in for a little duty, like an affectionate peck on the cheek. Our job? Talk to the patient, elicit an accurate history, and fill up the case sheet accordingly.
And when adventure beckons, can we possibly be left behind? Especially when you know you can come back and spin…
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