LIFE, ILLNESS, DEATH: THE RED FLOWERS OF OUR EXISTENCE
Abstract
Elevator. I stood opposite my neighbor. Silence. Tears. “He has a brain tumour.” Silence again. “He” is his son. We looked at each other. I could feel his fear. I felt his fear in my chest. In my whole body. I started to talk. Only nonsense. About some people that I know and
who still have lived after the same diagnosis. About hope, miracles, fight. Only nonsense...
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