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Doll Heads

It’s a spooky display. However, there is a story. I had a doll as a kid. My mother was progressive. She gave (made) me dance lessons and ballet lessons. It’s didn’t take. I was the oldest. I was the one she experimented upon. She failed. I prevailed. I’m the first to express regret that she gave up too soon. The doll baby I had was soon separated – head from body. Yeah, you can laugh that I turned out to be a neurosurgeon. But that was no harbinger. I just did not like the baby to have any clothes and did not like to have it with a head. The eyes opened and closed by weights counter balanced behind the eyes. (To this day we refer to the doll’s eye reflex in comatose patients. So maybe there was a connection to my adult avocation.) Otherwise it (doll) didn’t do much. Nowadays, I understand they talk, walk, eat, and shit. It was a simple doll that I had, one step up from painted eyes. I wonder where it went? (wink)

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