Stories for Authentic Living
Wednesday, July 8, 2020
It was 1979. I was finishing a Dip Ed at Sydney Teachers College after briefly considering an Honours Year at Uni of NSW. Spending a year making thin sections of eucalyptus flower buds and researching their morphology under an electron microscope would be interesting enough. Cell biology at the time was as illuminating as as it was elucidating. The first DNA sequencers had come on line at my university and the prospect that these enigmatic molecules would yield up the secrets of their genetic code was tantilising. But I had more pressing matters. My inner world was in turmoil, wracked by fear and a religious melancholy I could not shake.
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