Sublime

I was alone because of the ways that we have allowed ourselves to believe that the self, rather than community, must do all the healing.

Eventually she begins to disappear into furniture, against walls, her bare ends blending into things like the end of a brushstroke. Perhaps this is the reason they begin to forget that she is there; they cannot find her edges, the parts of her to pull out from the background to identify her by. They walk past her, talk through her, and are surprise

began to realize that coming in such close contact with my own mortality had changed both nothing and everything.

I watched the lives of others with a sense of wistfulness. I missed the burn of Scotch in my throat, the loose joy of a dinner party where everyone got a little high on talk. I wanted to be sloppy and fun again. “How are you doing?” Gina asked one morning. “I don’t know if I can take this anymore,” I told her. “I just want to get better. I want to

I’d been living with a kind of visual death sentence hanging over me, one that yesterday a young ophthalmological fellow had casually commuted.