Theshape of my days is dominated by my work. Numbers in charts, wordsbattered out of a keyboard, spit out from a whirring printer: Let's sayit is work...like that I do, work meant for Grey-walled cubicles underflickering fluorescent lights. Waiting by the printer for my work, the result of my work, to come,gazing out at the deepening steely Grey of evening, I realize that oneagain, I have reached Friday. Yet another Friday. Am I impatient? -- tapping the inch-thick stack of paper from the. Here, Moira..." When she reached that person, they could call, 'run left'. Then the next person would call to her. Moira ran as much as any kid-and loved it. The kids in her school were taught the technique and enjoyed helping her with it as much as she loved the running.I don't know if it was because of her blindness or just because she was female. Moira developed into a girl who was extraordinarily gifted at making friends and at having friends who wanted to help her.Her teachers told us the. More

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