Estoy aprendiendo, paulatinamente, que el amor no es una papa.
Carlotta’s heart was breaking. She felt it swell with tears and then crack. What does anyone know about anything? she thought. The scene with her mother emptied her of knowledge. Once again, as when she was a small child, she felt she knew nothing. That if the chair on which she sat suddenly became a canoe that floated out the window on the river of Zedé’s tears, she would not be surprised.
Recently I’ve become fascinated by our microbiomes. This comes as the weaving together of loose threads that have appeared in the few years since I developed gut problems following an extremely harsh round of antibiotics. I don’t have any background in anything related to microbiology or immunology, but I am now reading Living with Germs by John Playfair and am planning to read I Contain Multitudes by Ed Yong in hopes of learning more. In the interim, here is a video by the CBC that blew my mind. If anybody reading this has any suggestions, send them my way!
we can think of people “with mental illness” as people who reveal signs of distress in the face of a tough life and a crappy organization of society — they are canaries in the coal mine and we want that sensitivity. they are simply more sensitive to the world, to our shitty reality
aspectos que desarollar