Debbie Tully Lipscomb

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When she had laid her eggs in June, we all assumed that we would never be able to touch her again. She would guard her eggs to the end, we thought, and nevermore show any interest in us. Perhaps now she would consent to touch us again—affording an opportunity for a bittersweet farewell.
The Soul of an Octopus: A Surprising Exploration into the Wonder of Consciousness
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