craniosacral: a good call
I walk down 7th Avenue in a stumbling state. It takes effort to remember to put one foot in front of the other. Negotiating stairs is a whole other thing. “She said use the railings…” so I do, and try not to worry about all the germs. I think of a friend’s perfectly healthy mother who tripped on a rug and fell headlong into the corner of her hallway, broke her neck, and died. We are delicately waterous: held together with a trinket bag of bones and a handful of fleshy mounds and expandable Os. So easily punctured. So easily…