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I am told not to write. It is stressful, and bad on these eyes, and tires out the arms and fingers. They want to keep this body in hospital for another 30 days...they call it observation. What will they observe?

There is so much for me to observe still. Why do they want to do this? I want to run away from this bed with it's green sheets and tilting ends. Turn a crank and it lifts up on the head-side. Turn another crank and it lifts up on the feet side. Nurse visits every morning, and more. Urinating through a tube...blood through my forearm. A device, an adapter, with two openings, one perpendicular to the other, one with a pink lid the other with a white one, the needle of the thing, invisible, but certainly there. I can feel it go along the arm back towards the upper arm, under the skin. She comes and injects things into the arm with a needle-less syringe through one of the holes.

Sleepy. Must be the drugs. Maybe I need oxygen....

That is better. This oxygen tube is thin. It has two holes with horn like smaller tubes coming up slightly into the nostrils. The tube goes around the head, behind the ears. Feels like glasses...

Still sleepy. Will go now. I hope this gets posted. Sending it handwritten to a cyber to be posted... bye for now.

Ochre

The man squatted in the distance. Thin, perhaps just out of his teenage years. Dark gray with a slightly purple tinge was his shirt. His pants were black, dusty and washed. Folded up around the ankles, twice perhaps, forming loose round cloth loops that dangled above his feet. He had stubble on his face, making the lower face nearly as dark as his straight hair. Crouched, hips at ankle level, the upper body hunched over his own legs, armpits resting on the knees. His arms, straightened out in front, hands dangling for a moment downwards, before moving up to his face, covering the two sides, palms at the cheeks, fingers upwards, as his head also looked up.
Anguish.
Perhaps he was crying.
Two floors below, in the distance.

Grass had grown around the slightly raised concrete slab on which he squatted. The ground was concrete, with grass borders, patterns, here and there where it managed to grow between the cracks. Perpendicular to the squatting man, along the vision from this window, there is a metal frame, like a bed, with a platform. Too narrow to be a bedd, wide enough to sleep on without moving. Perhaps a moving tray to carry supplies. White frame, round edges, black wheels.

The wall next to where it stands is white. It is about hip level, protruding from a building. A big OM painted on whitewash, with some other things written below. Not readable from this distance. Now there is someone sleeping on the white framed, too narrow but just wide enough rolling bed. They are covered in a shiny Ochre cloth. There is a van, double doors at the back, opened outwards.

The nurse has come now, these eyes are diverted to the room where this body is, away from the scene outside.

"Tapain lai kasto cha?"

"Thikai cha sister...."