”To heal, that is to say to take care to the end, is to cross a field where neither the state of the soil nor the nature of the grasses is known. It is to accept the nettle flowers, the putrid slush, the sprains and also the fresh smells, the staked out shade of sun from a solitary tree. It is tiring and hard. We hurt our backs, we’re fed up, we want it to end quickly, we blame ourselves, we try to smile and not to hurry, and we cry in secret after hearing him call this child’s name that only he used.”
