We could go on talking for ever. Not about the girl who called her names or the teacher she couldn’t stand, but about the world, about lives, about creativity, about freedom, about wars, about hope, about despair, about the men she thought didn’t deserve to die and about the people she thought didn’t deserve to live the life they did. And with every single word she spoke, I realized there are such people left in the world. The world is not all dark. It has got hope. It has got those puddles with rainbows in them.

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