Rumor has it, it takes seven years for one's cells to be renewed. If this is true, this body I dwell in is completely different from the one from seven years ago.
I suspect this is all bull. On the top of my head I seem to remember that brain cells don't get renewed.
But taking that piece of urban folklore at the metaphorical value, it is interesting to think about us being renewed after a seven-year span.
I've always thought one's life is nothing but a chain of lives, of variations of oneself.
After seven years is hard to think of something new.
Last night you recited Beowulf to me in old English.
After seven years we've managed to find something new, things still unsaid.
Thank you for Beowulf, thank you because it was neither copper nor wool but the promise there will still be new things to learn.
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