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thigh: A small, dark dot. For three days, I held my breath. But one can’t hold in the entire atmosphere. The possibility of developing cancer is there. The possibility of dying of cancer is also there. Statistics show that every third European will develop cancer in their lifetime. Am I the first, second, or third European? Possibility, truth. When two things lie side by side often enough… The truth is: It is June. My mother is watering her hydrangeas. My sister now owns a dog. For me, everything’s still all right. My grandmother sometimes says that death is the last banal thing to happen in a person’s life. But that’s also a trite statement. It’s her art, pacifying herself. Nevertheless, when my father coughs three times, we all think the same thing. At every doctor’s visit I receive prognoses that will either knock me into a place of fear or lull me, safely. Whether I ask for it or not. (And I never ask for it.) Until they no longer keep me in fear or in safety. It will happen a third time or it won’t. No one can predict it, nothing can prevent it. Statistics offers nothing more than the illusion of control. I try to breathe calmly, to not search for connections, to not frighten myself. I see things lying side by side, in their supposed order, and I try to observe them separately: Here is a book; there is an orange. That’s all that is there. •

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2017 Word for Work Workshop ebook  

2017 Word for Work Workshop ebook  

Profile for cusoa