As the World Turns

Well, it does keep on, no matter what, doesn't it?

This was an experiment in stringing which resulted in a lazy, gentle twist which I find soothing, pleasing.

Small things.

It's still hard to fathom that someone who was so there, so vital just a few months ago is so very not here, and so very much will never again be here. She drew her last breath on Wednesday, but it sounds like she started slipping away a day or two before that.

It's such a weird, frail, delicate, wondrous, strong and sturdy thing, the human body. In the flush of health it's inconceivable that absent a knife blade, a speeding bullet or something violent and unnatural, the liver could fail, the heart could stop, the brain could fizzle out, blood could stop flowing and life as we know it could be extinguished. In motion, at the penultimate instant of an indrawn breath, there's a sense of permanence, the surety that this force of being and owning the space around the body could never dissipate, and yet it seems, it can.

Grow a cell funny, overrun its neighbours, spread its twisted fingers of decay and destruction to the next organ, and suddenly, that symphony of cooperating cells that gives a body presence in the world starts to slide out from underneath.

Just like that.

Gone, gone.