Make Sense!

”A surprisingly small part of what I write is made up,” said the spider to the fly, thus confusing it into immobility. Rhetorical spiders don´t need webs.


Truths about her hair:

- she has not washed it since last April, it´s now incredibly soft, feels like cotton,

- she has not been to a hairdresser since the turn of the Millennium.

These truths might be considered shallow observations, but they could also be looked upon as more profound cultural aspects. We are after all, all of us products of a cultural context, our (yours and mine) present one declaring that hair should be washed regularly and tended to by a professional hairdresser.

The nastiest thing about being a surgical nurse is not all the ick that emerges when patients are cracked open. It´s not the blood, the puke or the stuff that happens when people die. No, the nastiest thing is when you prep a patient for surgery and you have to clean their bellybutton. No nastier filth on the planet than the stuff that hides inside people´s bellybuttons.

September in pre-school: The child is a difficult one, she´ll scream and fight for no apparent reasons, she has no language and she won´t eat. These issues can be dealt with, but she comes with a woman that presents herself as a friend of the girl´s mother, the mother is apparently studying on another continent. Upon closer examination the case proves to be a more complex one; the girl has no legal guardian and no residence permit. Social services become involved and different scenarios are discussed. In the end the woman that claims to be the mother returns and takes the child abroad. Another interruption. Another uprooting. What happens to a brain that is never allowed some rest, to a soul that is never really loved, to a human that never has a chance to truly connect with other humans? Sometimes the girl´s face seems reflected in the mirror in the playroom. Her eyes appear inscrutable.

During day, when I go about being cold, getting colder, surviving a gray rain that slowly morphs into snow, I long for you. You open your arms and let me curl up against you every night and your love seep into my core like microwaves, warming me from the inside.