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There was a time in my life when my zest for the written word went gradually idling because I became engrossed in makeup artistry. I couldn’t even turn to the next page of a paperback from my shelf and, worse, the thought of creating a short prose on a simple topic dreaded me—all because I fell in love with blending different colors and shades, instead of powerful adjectives, careful adverbs, and beautiful nouns.

Dr. Maya Angelou came to my rescue like a godsend. If you remember the now defunct Fairmart or Plaza Fair department store on Colon Street, Maya waited for me at the shelves of R.S.O. Books on the second floor—three for only 10 pesos, that is. The very first I read was her autobiography titled “I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings.” I’d read tons of other books before, but Maya Angelou’s every page in that one gripped my insatiable thirst for new words and phrases, leaving me green with envy for her super rich vocabulary and graceful style. I kept coming back to R.S.O., thrice a week for the next few months, and purchased several copies of the same title which I gave out to friends. Now, I’ve lost count of the number of Maya’s books I have in my treasure-house.

I owe to Maya Angelou the invigoration of my passion for writing as well as the lustihood of my own style. Next to my being obsessive-compulsive, Maya is the reason that I never ever mess up my blog posts. My reverence for her was, is, and will forever be such that one of my biggest regrets in life would be not being lucky enough to have an audience with this phenomenal woman who taught me to not only inform when I write, but also entertain and inspire others.

To Dr. Maya Angelou, a mere “Rest in Peace” would not be enough to convey how much I adore you. Thank you for touching my life through your words and your works. I write better now because of you.

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