Art of Dying Volume One | Page 33

Jenny You’re that sick person. “Hospice. You know you hear words; didn’t have a clue what to do with me. then when it is happening you don’t have they had me on 28 pills a day and I was you have an idea of what they are. And a clue what hospice is. It’s just a word. And now all of a sudden this word has meaning and you look around and you think, a sick person must live here. And then it dawns on you that you’re that sick person. Sometimes I wonder what I have to look forward to. And the more I think on that, the more it draws me to what it was. As a They started to give me medication and introduced to shock treatment. Nothing terrified me more than that. And I would hang in the back and the paint on the walls would seem to bubble up and there would be insects and snakes crawling underneath the paint. And I think where my head is now; I have come so far. Art is like the giver of life for me. To child I had nothing. And I had to make my look at something and then to draw it, it’s having anything I would purloin things from it makes you feel more whole and more life work, ‘cos I was kept in the attic. And not the school. And in time I had paintbrush- es, scraps of paper. Art would take me to another world. Oh I tried to tell people that things weren’t right at my place, but nobody listened. By the fourth foster home they like becoming one with the object and whole. Throughout my entire existence I enjoyed going to that place of peace. And I wonder about people who never ever know high peace and I felt lucky that I knew, little old nobody me could get high peace.” When I met Jenn