Keyboard letters came so
easily to me when I typed. Typing is a sign of the worlds privileged in itself, I suppose. It just come so naturally to ...us.
I remember sitting on our
ragged couch in Togo with Ro’s cousin showing him the magical way a key pressed
on one surface will make a little black letter appear on another surface.
Reminded of this now as I
type, I realize that I took this ability for granted, my fingers searching for
the letters they don’t always find.
The chemo has been going
well. I am bright most days. I am doing well at my course, keeping ahead.
I am
also currently hunched over my laptop in pain, typing slowly with slow fingers
that spend their days tingling, and about to go to bed at 8.15pm, exhausted.
I’m humbled that you would
read my little black dots on a screen.
Good night,
B
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