Chiasmus (3)

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I spent much of that walk thinking about my personal and political_: of H., of fences, of what was to come.

The centripetal force that kept them oscillating each other was singularly disturbed by an unknown object. Their course was re-written and the ageing astrophysicist would have to begin his life’s work again. He stuck a label on the front cover of the notepad (deliberately over the coffee stain), wrote the dates, and put it into the drawer of his desk with the others.

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