Expert Summer Seven days of rain, and still we hope for sun, seek treatment for the fungi doctors insist is not there. We ask ourselves, Have they implants in their eyes that they can’t tell this brown fuzz here on your arms, that faint orange, right there, creeping down my pale foot? Never mind what is on my face, they don’t see it. Perhaps their problem is genetic, some parental inheritance which looks the other way when seeming to examine closely and in the light. What shall we do with them, we wonder, since they have the key to the sky, the light we need to melt our microscopic colonies, the ones so unfriendly to us. For years I said if I had never heard before, something did not exist and so avoided disease.
Posted on: Thu, 11 Jul 2013 12:00:11 +0000