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Written by: Liam Wilkinson | Biography
 She holds the whalebone up to the light
until it silhouettes - a black chunk
of skeleton, hugged by our bright electricity.
It’s fifteen million years old.
It dwarfs the nineteenth century mantel with its age, casts a shadow of colossal time over the antique clock.
And we stare into the possibility of its life before us, at a vague shape of what it might have carried, the great brain it once sat beside.
She turns to me, her eyes glazed by the wonder of what she holds in her hand and asks if we can find the rest.