I have been battling many sicknesses the past month. It all began with a ruptured ear drum, paving the way for a bacterial infection, a fever, several collapses, daily nosebleeds, and now more recently, vomiting of blood. Not much of it, but fine, bright red threads of it laced through the bile and acid. Just when I thought I was getting better, I might actually be getting worse. My ear is acting up again, and I am dizzy with fear; queasy from the medical bills I must still somehow pay, but cannot afford. My health is more inconsistent than ever, and I never know how I will be feeling each day I wake up. Will I hurt today? Will I cry from my physical ailment? Or will I endure it? Can I muster enough enough strength to get me through the hours of wake? Will it finally stop? I don't want to take any more medicine, in hopes of it bettering me. I just want to be better.
The photo above was taken last week, in a Bergamot Statior gallery, in front of a painting by Alex Weinstein. Out of all the art I saw, this enormous painting lured me in. I swam towards it. In my dreams, I sometimes dance through it. In my dreams, I'm not being anchored down by my failing health, like it does in my real life. It won't dare sink me. I rise above it. I swim.
mkp.
