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Hermann Hesse, Wandering: Notes and Sketches (1920)

THEY’RE SO HOT

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Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941), poem 85 from “The Gardener”, 1914 Translated by the author from the original Bengali. New York: The Macmillan Company.

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“it’s that time of the year when I get colds for no apparent reason again” have some Clairitin hon

Like “oh clams always ~turn my stomach~”. Or “what a pity he was taken from us at age 5”

They died, Ashleigh. 

We have higher rates of mental illness now? Maybe that’s because we’ve stopped killing people for being “possessed” or “witches.” Higher rate of allergies? Anaphylaxis kills, and does so really fast if you don’t know what’s happening. Higher claims of rape? Maybe victims are less afraid of coming forward. These problems were all happening before, but now we’ve reinforced the medical and social structures needed to help these people survive. And we still have a long way to go.

When you phrase it just right, it makes it sound like it’s more dangerous to ride a motorcycle with a helmet than without one. Of course, the reality is that before those laws, those patients were going to the morgue, not the ER.

Wesley Stacey, The road: Outback to the city 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7, 1973-75. Folio 1 from “The Road”, a portfolio of 280 photographs. Type C colour photograph, Fuji Colour machine print. National Gallery of Australia.