small observations

I saw a woman with a baby (and family)--it was obvious she was anorexic, (or v. recently coming out of the disease). I also recently watched--bits and pieces--a documentary about women in an eating disorder clinic in America. One of the patients, ironically, was a psychiatric nurse. She is someone who understands (or is supposed to) the theoretical principles and motivations behind conditions like anorexia nervosa; yet there she was, not the relative or friend or colleague or acquaintance of a sufferer, but the patient herself. No matter how we try to understand how our environment, family, friends, all our lived experiences affect how we relate to the outside world--we can ponder and theorise and speculate about every single thing on this planet--we will never be able to predict how we will react to life itself. Going back to my initial thoughts, how is this woman going to cope/coping with her condition, while at the same time trying to raise a baby who will need to have a relatively healthy mother in her life? There was another child in the family--a boy, aged about 12; he walked with the father.


...


I have so much I want to get out. An image pops up here; a story is created there. Everything and everyone is a story. And reality. For instance, the guy with the locs--he was/is physically attractive--what would it feel like to talk to him for the first time? Where would it be? What would we say? How would it feel? Would he take his sunglasses off--why? why not? Everything is a story. And it is all reality.