Pain is like the wind.
It can only be viewed by its interface with the environment.
We see the trees move, the leaves rustle, the flower petals quiver. We see the thick dust in the air, the yard furniture toppling in a pile by the fence, the branches dropping to the street.
Our skin turns alive with an unseen pressure. We are urged to move to the left by an unseen force from the right. It blew my hat off.
“I cannot take a picture of the wind. I can show you a picture of a windy day… but not the wind.” Continue reading