E’ fuori dubbio, lo vedo. L’ospedale ti trasforma, cambia il tuo corpo. Anche solo poche ore e la metamorfosi ha inizio. La pelle impallidisce, diventa diafana. La voce s’affievolisce, un poco roca. I gesti rallentano, le mani tremano leggermente. Il corpo s’appiattisce, i rilievi a poco a poco scompaiono sotto le lenzuola candide, come un campo dopo un’intensa nevicata.
Anche il lume della ragione s’appassisce e una curiosità di solito viva si trasforma nel suo ricordo. Le domande che dovresti porre nascono già stanche e in ritardo.
Ti nutri di liquidi incolori, pappe opalescent. The light is faint, muffled sounds, you fall into a lifeless limbo.
A spectrum.
The spectra are not the dead come back, they are alive, still flesh and blood, only processed here.
the sick, people are unresolved, are prisoners of this white slime that fills the rooms of a hospital. And 'their existence is not yet defined that we displace, shake it, it creeps into our thoughts and generates fear. They evoke our deepest fears when, with hair standing, we heard a noise in the dark. Or a cold shiver in a sunny day.
are patients whose condition was suspended makes us uncomfortable, malicious creeps into our lives and well defined. We do not know how to handle them, our fantasies.
Many resume their color and their physicality, others do not make it disappear and become invisible. Once concluded and resolved their way sick, "eeriness", or are or are not. However cease to be shadows. Here they are our ghosts, and they have fear. Not death, that our friend is sincere, frank, solver. Neither of life, which gives us no respite, that we ride to spur beaten.
E 'in limbo as we fear, and the people it employs diaphanous rooms.
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