Her eyes were blue. They probably still are. An understated grey-blue, neither pale nor dark, a shade which haunted both my dreams and my waking thoughts for every hour of my life during that time, and for years after. Sad eyes, looking at me from behind the glasses which she disliked so much, but which had become somehow synonymous with her image in my mind. My memories of that blissful time will always be of that grey-blue which attracted me so. And of silver, the silver light that played between her hands as she created.

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