[1]On Sunday, an acquaintance of mine died of cancer. I hadn’t known that she was sick, so the news was shocking. 6 months ago, when I saw her last, she was laughing in her particular hearty way, looking radiantly healthy. How can a robust person be here one minute and gone the next? I’ve been cycling through some noble impulses – remembering to be grateful more, bitch less and not put important stuff on hold, all of which I forget, then kick myself to remember again. But I can’t stop wanting to know all the morbid details, as if somehow, they will make it seem more real.
Illustration: Wood Ghosts by Tom Gauld [1]