the tragedy and the beauty of my evenings in this otherwise sterile enclosure.
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
postcard 4
the hospital where i work specializes in treating and housing patients with lifelong disabilities, most of them with severe brain damage. every other evening, at sundown, all the patients come out in their motorised chairs to the open quadrangle in front of the hospital. they number a little less than a hundred, and while they enjoy the evening breeze , there is always a local singer or musician playing for them.
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2 comments:
very touching..
i walked into a souvenir shop with a wall filled with magnets that carried ancient (american) indian sayings, one whole line of which had a person with a flute walking away into the green and blue distance with a caption that read, 'each one of us is born with a song'. i wonder sometimes if one must be pushed to an extreme state of mental debility to find it, or if it is enough to Know - that it exists. On a separate note, see this book: http://www.amazon.com/Square-One-Meditation-Digressions-Crosswords/dp/0743287622.
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