A nurse comes in. The nurses, the calming presence of the nurses. Their neutrality, never too concerned, never too near. I can’t imagine what it might be like to be them, to live inside such intensity day after day. Are they clear-glass houses? Or do they shut all their doors and windows once they’re off duty? I don’t know how else they could buy food, pay bills, wait to be called at the DMV without thinking of the ways, all the ludicrous ways, we go about distancing ourselves from the fact that we’re all on the way to dying. Maybe they are simply in better practice than we are. Maybe it isn’t
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