He wonders what the connection is between brilliant minds and intractable hair. His own perpetually limp hair slides forward as he watches her from the corner of his eyes. Her bushy head is bent over her quill which flies over parchment spilling irrepressible ideas and pausing every now and then as though to rephrase a sentence before resuming its mad dash. Heart heavy with regrets, he watches and wonders how different his life might have been if only she had been born twenty years sooner. But twenty years ago, he wouldn’t have known what to do with such opportunity anyway.