Why do they abound in literature?
Notwithstanding the self-evident truth that all diseases must be averted at all costs, or even obliterated,
Notwithstanding the axiom that good health is the greatest of all gifts,
The state of being sick transports us to another realm
Transfixes us in an oblique light
Makes us float nude down the Seine, as it were
Turns us into rain, transforms us into an airy mist
As long as we survive the night, that is.
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