AYANA ALLES
It is a strange thing, when a lifetime of memories consolidates into the tiles and sheets of a hospital room. The world narrows to white walls and blue curtains, beeps and cries, a persistent chemical stench. It’s not like there are gaping holes in my mind. It is more like: I do not know what is gone. Who is gone. I cannot miss them, so I do not feel an ache for their loss. Until they visit me. …Continue Reading Tell Me Again
