Sensations drift migrate. Pain makes colonies. Like capital it digs exploits, and moves on. Then the long healing.
"Cold Tiles Soft Steps"
16 days ago I called for help. Then crumpled into my hallway. Voices dim light. Lifted carried rolled. Two operations then four,...I think.
Pale memories. Brief moments.
All this happened. Is happening is always happening.
Yet so little remembered.
There is no sequential narrative yet.