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Semasiology
Ellyn had the irksome habit of always being right. Right up to the day she died. Her meticulous nature and ponderous pauses would lead to drawn out silences that could terminate any argument in a concise finale, leaving you in no doubt who was right and who was wrong. It was not unknown for Ellyn to start arguing your case for you when you had broached the heart of the argument and convinced her you were right. Such arguments would eventually barrel-roll into an endless congratulatory series of agreements and smiles.
Close to seven feet tall (in sensible heels) and with skin that reminded you of the smooth creamy shimmer of milk chocolate, Ellyn once admitted to me that she descended from an Abyssinian tribe that had fought the Italians and the British across the devastated landscape of Eritrea and the Sudan. In her last few weeks we discussed traditional tribal burial rituals and she asked to be buried in a ring of fire, I said the best I could do was set the grass around her burial plot on fire with some lighter fluid and a Zippo.
May. 5.2004