THE WORLD IS A HOSPITAL

As if it hasn’t been difficult enough, we are now asked to change room again. It will be the third room I have shared since arriving here in mid-January. All the rooms are identical, painted light blue, with low ceilings and two beds side by side about six feet apart.

The roommates change each time, which is a bit of a strain. Each move is an abrupt and jarring alteration because Isabella and I are asked to move our things immediately and relocate within an hour. This time, I have the good fortune to be sharing with the Maestro, who has returned to the clinic after a spell in hospital. We are good pals and it’s a pleasure to share with him but I still find the change traumatic.