“Typist disagrees! And so do I.” Thalia often said what was on the tip of her tongue… without hesitation.
Calliope’s wide eyes and fidgety fingers told the story of her truth. “Disagree?” The Muse of Harmony cleared her throat. “With… Sir Isaac Newton? The man who discovered gravity and the laws of motion? But our Typist is just a…”
Sensing Cal’s direction, Nia interrupted. “Please don’t refer to our Typist a ‘just-a’ anything. We are in no position to judge the value of a life… especially one we are so entwined with.”
“He said,” Tal continued, “Truth is never to be found in simplicity.”
Urania looked up from her screen. “It says here that Sir Isaac said. ‘Truth is EVER to be found in simplicity, and not in the multiplicity and confusion of things.’ What do you and Typist think now?”
“We think,” Thalia and Typist shared a pink faced glance, “that we’re glad you looked beyond the apparent misquote Typist received in her inbox.”
A word from Typist:
Today’s ultrasound showed the mass in my breast is responding favorably (my favor, not C’s) to the chemotherapy I’ve received so far… it’s smaller. The image I saw today looked more like a fluffy pancake than the solid black egg image from February.
I look forward to seeing my oncologist on Thursday.
Be like water my friend.
I prefer fluffy to a dark egg. I am visualizing cotton candy that melts away with little effort. Excited for your appointment on Thursday and love your drawing. It looks like a chicken I had once. She was a bantam frizzle. We called her Siouxsie (from Siouxsie and the Banshees) for her wild, punk hairstyle. I still miss her.