mass

i had to have an inhalation at the hospital. right in front of me, a guy in a red shirt, portable phone in his hands, was singing endlessly, out loud, an unknown song. to me, it sounded like a derivation of russian. he was slowly having his blood tested and he made comments on the syringe and the wires. he made comments to no one, only for himself. we were all in that room, inhaling the air, gathered, and the guy was singing. to rro li shat la kav nin to plis. the nurses passed by and asked: are you feeling better? from one to ten, how would you rate your pain? would you like to take the inhaler home with you? no. poor inhaler. nobody wants to take it home. at the same time that i felt like the most solitary of the victims of cold, i also felt part of a group of breathers, lullabied by that strange song. man of the strange song, you saved me from the bureaucracy of the flu and you've transformed it into a russian mass.