What happens to Theo's blog now that Hogkin and been smogkined?
In the west we divide into those who know they have cancer, and those who do not know.
In the east, many take one day at a time, and assume that it may be their last.
If they die, no one asks how they died, they just grieve.
Margaret's Aunt Elizabeth knows she has cancer, but doesn't know it's will.
A sore throat or sharp pain may be something; it may be nothing.
Today- I hear my neighbour working hard; light, rhythmic sawing.
I imagine that he is constructing his wife's new pottery, which he is fitting in their cellar.
I feel the cold air coming from the kitchen window. The sensation is tingling down my back. I decide not to resist this, as it speaks of a damp Easter Monday. Which is what it is.
Today, what is to be done? I want my factious and exhausted family to enjoy being together, and simply be together. Surely this is a challenging desire.
Striving to achieve this, can easily bring disappointment.
As with reaching out to catch a butterfly.
Straining, and grasping, I find it crushed it in my hand.
But with this moment of calm, I find that it comes closer; it may even land.
We are not alone. The only way to know this it to experience it, to feel it, to put your hands in it.
Sometimes we can hold on to hope for long periods of time. It grows more faint; less secure.
But hope is not based on this experience. Experience is an aid to hope.
My hope is in the security of relationships. As with all relationships, the core is desire.
When I die, I do not want them to lie, to use rosy words, or anything that would cause me to blush and squirm. I want them to speak of desire.
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