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photo credit: Celyn Nicholson

When I had a stroke two years ago, my last words before falling over were: call my wife and tell her I love her. Because my wife is the most beautiful woman in the world. To me. Others might object but they would be dead wrong. Her beauty is so deep, you can‘t see it refecting off her milky skin. Photographers try to capture her loveliness, but their pixels are blind to beauty. Some things only I can see. I kiss her neck in the morning and it makes her laugh because it tickles her. I catch her in passageways as she tries to walk by and take the time to look into her flittering eyes.

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