It is 3:41 AM (Eastern time North America). Pain woke me up around 2:20. I’ve felt worse, but I am hurting right now. I watched the end of a fine film noir film from 1950, Night And The City.
Right now I’m listening to some Russian Orthodox znamenny chant, but I can’t get into it. I just fixed J some sliced fruit and an avocado for her lunch.
I suppose I will go back to sleep, but not now. I switched over to watch plus-size Brazilian women modelling intimate apparel, (underwear). Evidently the Brazilians don’t mind a little cellulite. Now I’m watching Marina Morlok show the melting snow outside her apartment as she chatters away in Russia. Now her hairless cat is on camera.
The Internet has made us all vulnerable, not in the sense of being subject to attack, but showing us all as human with our softness, frailties, and shared humanity.
Marina is my virtual friend, and I understand practically nothing of what she says. I hear only the deep, rolling cascade of Slavic verbiage. But it is a woman’s voice I hear, a woman’s face I see, as I recall again, my very first memories. From such a voice and such a face I learned to order the world.