Elgan speaks
...and her words thunder across the land

Broken spiderwebs

Monday, Jan. 25, 2010
1:21 p.m.
My mother’s mind is unraveling like a tapestry. Her selvages are all undone, the colours are bleached out, there are holes in the fabric, and the threads are losing their integrity, hanging together by the merest of fibres.

I just hung up the phone from talking to her. She has lost touch with reality and is fabricating where her own substance has been lost. I spent a half-hour listening to her tell me stuff that made no sense at all. She has confused people and places and times. There is only one real consistency, and that is the conviction that she is a prisoner and being held against her will by uncaring jailers. She resents that they laugh at her when she is trying to be serious, and that they do not spend the time with her or give her the attention that she so craves.

In her own words, she wishes she would die already.




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