Friday, January 26, 2024

The Social Construction of Illness

It’s cold downstairs.
Upstairs it’s hot,
So they tell you,
The ones who can

Run up the stairs
And down again
To report back
That, yes, it’s hot.

Downstairs, winter
Fingers windows.
Upstairs, the sun
Floods a glass box.

They complain and
You shiver, since
You can’t go up
The stairs with them.

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