On my way to work this morning, I saw a dead body. I emerged from Port Authority, and began to walk south…immediately noticing the chaotic congregation of firetrucks, police cars, and ambulances amassed at the corner of 8th Avenue and 40th Street. I felt the familiar tightening in my stomach, as I walked by. Gearing up for the worst. Then I saw the body on the pavement. The body clearly had been hit by a truck, so this person was completely mangled. With guts and brains spilling across the street. This was terrible to see. Terrible. I have never seen anything like that, and it has shaken me up considerably. I continued on to work, overwhelmed, in tears. I have only cliches in my mind, but they are no less true for being cliches. Life is precious. Life is short. Life is beautiful. Life is a mystery. The red messy organs I saw on the pavement, when put together, work in unison…and a human BEING is the result. A complex human being. This is a miracle. But how precious it is all is, how fragile. With one swipe of a truck, it all is snatched away. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
On my way to work this morning, I saw a dead body. I emerged from Port Authority, and began to walk south…immediately noticing the chaotic congregation of firetrucks, police cars, and ambulances amassed at the corner of 8th Avenue and … Continue reading