She woke up one morning and asked the Mirror, “What does a surgeon look like?”
But the Mirror did not answer.
So she turned to the World and asked, “What does a surgeon look like?”
And the World did answer.
The World said,
“He is tall and not small.”
“He is not too young and not too old.”
“That, there,” the World pointed, “He looks like a surgeon.”
She listened, she heard.
The Mirror had let the World talk, but could not let the World win.
The Mirror then said, “Can you ask me that same question again?”.
And so she did.
She turned her back on the World, and turned her face to the Mirror.
“What does a surgeon look like?” she said.
And this time, the Mirror answered,
“Be it young or old,
tall or small,
white or brown,
it is not the skin nor hair that does a surgeon make.”
“What matters most is what you cannot see.”
“The quickness of the mind, the skill of the hands, the kindness of the heart.”
“Ask me one more time,” the Mirror said, “and you will now see.”
She asked, and she answered,
“It looks like me.”
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