Clara leaned out the window to feel the fresh early morning air. At the edge of the windowsill, she saw the sad, withered geranium, wilted and shriveled, as much in need of water as she was of a sense of security and control over her own body. The flare-up was still active, evident in her persistent weakness, her blurred vision, and the strange numbness that coursed through her body and face. Across the street, she saw the blind woman she often crossed paths with, walking with her usual determined stride—a woman with a confident air, always well-dressed, carrying that dignity that comes with age and experience. How could someone with such a disability manage to live the active life she seemed to lead? She looked away. Her eyes ached if she focused on a single point for too long. Another symptom of the flare-up. At first, it had been just minor discomforts, small functional glitches—words that wouldn’t come to mind, a light-headedness that pulled her away from her chores, a slight...
Narraciones sobre el SENTIDO DE LA VIDA