Body

She bears witness to the complete life of a man in a day. Little is known about his human spirit. Great is the knowledge of his human body. He is aged and his flesh, pale. His heart, exposed; as are his lungs, as are his tendons, as are his ligaments and all those spindly nerves. The soul- invisible, alive, heavy- floats about, not far from where she observes so stoically. She can suffer he is still kind, his body preserved by plastic, rendered to the world, dead. All of his emotions she learns, as he lays them upon her. Passion, fear, shame, and sorrow; are they in his head, the spiraled flesh of sponge? Or the heart, a bulbous, foreboding organ that once gave him life and then took it away? All of his words, whispered in her ear by his spirit. The ghost mutters, talks, sings, screams, cries about the love in life. His being is so fast, so furiously, moving about this place. The lovely years become interwoven into the lives of everyone: a life given to her in death.