Agnosia, aphasia, apraxia.

Across the lawn lives a little girl with twinkling, mahogany eyes and charcoal hair. She gathers pansies from her back garden, and brings them over to me, her pearly hands trembling, cheeks blooming in rosy reticence. She does this every other day, and there are times when a vague sense of familiarity bewilders me, like the erupting lava which dribbles mercilessly from Earth's luscious lips. And such devilish pandemonium cradles me like a child, and I succinctly nix the cotton on my head and the traces time drew on my face, edging it with crumpling wisdom. 

For I have never met this girl, I have never known this girl. This girl, a blotchy speck on my creamy sheet of blankness, a splash of swarthy ink I idly long to hold, but leaks mercilessly between my tortuous fingers.

This girl with eyes of mahogany and charcoal hair. This girl who tentatively nourishes my sentiments with staring viola faces. This girl I have never met. This girl I have never known.

This girl I have always loved. 

Addah Monoceros.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: This text comprises a metaphor involving a grandmother and her loving granddaughter who regularly visits her in order to trigger her fated, perishing memory. As a physician, I published it today in order to raise awareness as far as medical investigation is concerned, for Alzheimer's disease is not to be taken lightly. My sincere gratitude to all my readers for spreading the word. I genuinely hope science never ceases to upsurge, boosting new treatments and hence promoting global health and welfare.