hello, cancer, I'm afraid of you
It began after Dad died, when you entered his lymphatic system, hid in the chest, and no one noticed you. Now remember how Mum was gone long before that. You are so tiny, more like an accident than an ubiquitous monster, appeared in her head, confused thoughts and spoke in the language of pain. After that meeting, I wanted to cut ties with you, but that didn't happen.

Now I know that you are always there — blind, cold, in the never-ending search for a cozy place. I'm learning to unravel your signs and symbols to find a way to get rid of fear.


my parents
the sweater my mom knitted
Dad didn't get to finish the renovations on my new flat. He got sick.
syringes that were bought to give my mom shots
the work clothes my dad was wearing when he was renovating