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<blockquote data-quote="Kiralari" data-source="post: 3628017" data-attributes="member: 53361"><p>A girl, more of a young woman really, meanders along the wall looking at and reading the tributes. In her hands is a piece of wood. Old, and broken, like a piece of driftwood, with irregular shape. The edges are still sharp and the color is bleached, but the front of the piece has been carefully and lovingly sanded and restored to a nice finish. Finding a place on the wall with enough room for the large book sized piece of wood, she holds it against the wall in the chosen spot her lips forming soundless words. Finally, the young woman steps back, the piece of wood staying in the place on the wall, and she brushes the dark sable hair from her face so she can be sure it's just right. </p><p></p><p>The front of the plaque, so carefully and lovingly restored has had writing etched into its surface with a hot instrument. The handwriting is legible, though not beautiful by any standards. The writing has been painted silver and outlined in purple.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">This piece of wood. Abused and broken, misused and cast away.</span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">A fitting choice for me to use, as it represents so clearly what I was.</span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">Before you found me. Before you helped me. Before you saved me.</span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">All of you. People. Friends. Some of you even family to my thinking.</span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">Taken from me by time and distance, death, and sometimes my own actions. </span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">This is for you. So that you know, wherever you are, that I still remember.</span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">That I still appreciate you and what you did for me. </span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">That I still love you. All of you. Wherever you are. Wherever I am.</span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">Kiralari Shikonar</span></p><p></p><p>Tears glisten at the corners of the rapidly blinking almost purple eyes, but she smiles and stands there lingering. Finally, the young woman wipes the tears streaking down her face on her sleeve and turns to walk away. There is nothing else she can do here.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Kiralari, post: 3628017, member: 53361"] A girl, more of a young woman really, meanders along the wall looking at and reading the tributes. In her hands is a piece of wood. Old, and broken, like a piece of driftwood, with irregular shape. The edges are still sharp and the color is bleached, but the front of the piece has been carefully and lovingly sanded and restored to a nice finish. Finding a place on the wall with enough room for the large book sized piece of wood, she holds it against the wall in the chosen spot her lips forming soundless words. Finally, the young woman steps back, the piece of wood staying in the place on the wall, and she brushes the dark sable hair from her face so she can be sure it's just right. The front of the plaque, so carefully and lovingly restored has had writing etched into its surface with a hot instrument. The handwriting is legible, though not beautiful by any standards. The writing has been painted silver and outlined in purple. [CENTER][FONT=Book Antiqua]This piece of wood. Abused and broken, misused and cast away. A fitting choice for me to use, as it represents so clearly what I was. Before you found me. Before you helped me. Before you saved me. All of you. People. Friends. Some of you even family to my thinking. Taken from me by time and distance, death, and sometimes my own actions. This is for you. So that you know, wherever you are, that I still remember. That I still appreciate you and what you did for me. That I still love you. All of you. Wherever you are. Wherever I am. Kiralari Shikonar[/FONT][/CENTER] Tears glisten at the corners of the rapidly blinking almost purple eyes, but she smiles and stands there lingering. Finally, the young woman wipes the tears streaking down her face on her sleeve and turns to walk away. There is nothing else she can do here. [/QUOTE]
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