Sorrow makes us all children again - destroys all differences of intellect.
The wisest know nothing.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Tuesday, November 28 ~ Afternoon
Glassy eyes stared out over the smooth black lake the undisturbed water having a calming affect upon the brunette sitting upon its banks. Her legs were drawn up to her chest with her arms wrapped tightly around them. She'd found herself coming out here more and more in the afternoons, watching the water, listening to the birds. There was something unexplainable about the way it soothed her. It was perhaps a bit unsettling to Hermione who organized the world with numbers, facts, theorems and probability. This was nothing like that, something intangible, unproven, but so very there in a way she couldn't explain with science or mathematics.
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