The Song Remains The Same

Nicer, neater, way more modern and faster than past visits, Sunday afternoon was spent as quietly as if we had just parked ourselves in a suburban living room filled with soothing pictures and muted surfaces.

What hadn't changed was that choral piece floating over walls made of cloth, constant contrapuntal words from elderly patients, investigating doctors, dutiful daughters, tired nurses....

"Do you know where you are are you home Poppy, let her do that NO! I'm not signing that I'm going for a cigarette and then I was here a couple of years ago so when I stabbed myself I came back here fill this out was there pain pee into this cup you want to read my book what have we here the test showed that..."