Sometimes I ask myself how is it?
That this destiny and I found one another.

I was five, when I witnessed my two-year-old brother open the door of my family's fast-moving car. Unable to reach him I cried out as I saw him falling. The image of Mark by the roadside, motionless and white as sculpted alabaster, and of my mother's agonized face are indelibly seared in my memory.



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