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Thursday, June 10, 2004


   Would you like to see my viscera?
I remember where I was when I learned the meaning of the word "immolation." I was sitting at my kitchen table, listening to the radio news announce that a woman had died of "self-immolation" during a protest at a large gathering of people.

I have a dictionary on my kitchen table for the crossword, and I looked it up.

"Self-immolation" is the act of setting one's self on fire.

I remember that I sat at a table and learned this new word because another woman half-way round the world had decided that a cause was worth sacrificing her life for, dying a violent and painful death.

I remember the word, but I don't remember what she was protesting...

It's raining tonight. The medication I take to control the pain from chronic arthritis is wearing off. I can't hear the rain outside anymore, but I can feel the damp, I can see the clouds in the window.

Some part of me wonders if the same late rain that is making my life painful would have saved hers, months ago.

Words, words, words... better to use less of them, perhaps?

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