Hand-cut collage on canvas.
There's a low hum of menace, faces distorted into grey-green.
A woman strapped down to prevent her from fighting the nurses attempting to place a catheter believed she was being raped. She experienced it as rape. She can't go to the grocery store alone.
We are overwhelmed by decisions. A simple trip out hiking takes days of planning,
and is it worth the risk?
Our breaths are artificial. Uneven. We flip from our bellies to our backs, finding ways to fill up.
Lungs don't grow on trees. Trees reach their limbs up into the air, breathing out what we breathe in.
We used to run marathons, and now we can't walk across a room without getting winded.
Sometimes, you're ready to take another breath, and one doesn't come yet.
The machine isn't ready for you.
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