have you ever watched a patient lying in a hospital bed? moaning, not out of pleasure, with those pastel-colored curtains - blue, yellow, pink - behind them? nobody, nobody actually wants to be there. it's this sense of responsibility, of promises made, this fear of dying alone that bounds us to the misery of confinement, behind ill walls.
what is it about weakness, pain and suffering that is so intolerable for those of us who are really only spectators? is it because what we see is so raw, so tragic and true of what we know deep down, that in the worst of times - in pain and in suffering - no matter how surrounded, we are completely and utterly alone?
i'm taking a smoking break outside of the hospital. the irony. a nurse is standing next to me with her burning cigarette, i'm sharing this moment with her.