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  1. The loneliest drive. II

    The man I reached was un-doubtfully my brother. In mind. His body now betraying him was growing hollow, just what remained of a life. I reached his bed and sat next to him. I took his hand, not a handshake but a wrestling grip, and warned him I would ask him the stupidest question in his life.
    “How do you feel?”
    He smiled and said “I feel like dying”. And then he added “and that is not the stupidest thing you have asked me”.
    His brain, plagued by little tumors, was still able ...

    Updated 02-11-2018 at 06:16 PM by ponchi101

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  2. The loneliest drive. I

    The message was too blunt and direct to mean anything that would be good. “Call A. Urgent”. I had received messages like that before but always with a disclaimer or a little smiling emoji. There was nothing to soften this one.
    I called my niece A and got the news. My brother G had been taken to the hospital early in the morning and the initial exams were dire. Cancer. And it had spread considerably.
    The initial prognosis sound terrible, which was confirmed a few hours later. Stage ...
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  3. The "head-to-head" significance (or lack there of)

    Why "head-to-head" is a flawed criteria and SHOULD NOT be considered as a criteria in any serious discussion, which tries to judge objectively.

    In court, when one side refers to the partial statement, other side always has an option to hear the whole statement. The whole always allows to judge with greater measure of objectivity comparing to its subset.

    When we look at "head-to-head" between two players, we neglect the fact that each of these two ...
    Tags: criteria, tennis
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  4. Nightmare

    The nightmare is in layers.
    I am sleeping, easily. Next to me, M sleeps also. She is, like I am, prone to nightmares. I can feel in the darkness that she is stirring, a sign that a bad dream is going on. I can feel her moving, wrestling with her bad dream. It has happened before, so I do what I always do: I put my hands around her and try to hush her. What I always do, in these cases, is to hold her, caress her forehead with my hand and tell her “Now, now, it’s over”. I do that.
    But ...
  5. Logbook to despair. Part XI

    And just like that, my passport is issued. I go and retrieve it, I get a couple of other things done, I am able to finish all I came to do.
    And it is time to leave home, to go home.
    I find myself again at the Maiquetia airport, waiting for a plane to take me away. It is not a happy place. In a country where people are being forced to emigrate this is the obvious place where many of them do so. I will board the plane and the young woman next to me will start crying, sad that she is ...
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