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I remember one summer, when I was in Denver, two girls knocked at the door. They were sixteen, maybe seventeen years old. I had a hard time understanding the question issuing from their lips. After a few unsuccessful attempts to comprehend what they wanted to say, I looked for something to write with. The girls were surprisingly patient and determined. When I finally gave them a pencil and paper, they passed the pencil back and forth from one to the other while consulting. Then finally, one of them carefully wrote a phrase. It took her a moment to write the letters. I only wished I could have responded. Giasco Bertoli |