Posted in Uncategorized on Thursday, 22 November 2007
We were sent this remarkable story by Alison Cheung, aged 10. By way of allusion, rather than illustration, here also is an illustration of William Harvey who first properly understood the role of the heart.
THE WAITING ROOM
One, two. One, two. I sat there, with one hand over my heart, feeling the weak beats that emerged from within. Why? Why me? It wasn’t fair.
Life isn’t fair.
My life was hanging in the balance since I was born. A purple, little, slimy alien, my heart was all wrong from the start. It was weak. It was an old, tired heart which barely had the strength to pump my blood around my body. Eleven years I had always been watching, never doing. Never been able to run or jump or swim that long… never being able to escape a day without at least one person whispering ‘that’s the girl who’s going to die when she’s thirteen’. I don’t want anyone pointing their filthy fingers at me and feeling all sad and sorry for me.
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