When you have an asthma attack, you can’t breathe. When you can’t breathe, you can hardly talk. To make a sentence all you get is the air in your lungs. Which isn’t much. Three to six words, if that. You learn the value of words. You rummage through the jumble in your head. Choose the crucial ones – those cost you too. Let healthy people toss out whatever comes to mind, the way you throw out the garbage. When an asthmatic says ‘I love you,’ and when an asthmatic says ‘I love you madly,’ there’s a difference. The difference of a word. A word’s a lot. It could be stop, or inhaler. It could even be ambulance.
- 65,355 x infinity
- Some impromptu reflection has me flashing back a decade ago, making me pause to acknowledge I’m so glad I know when… twitter.com/i/web/status/1… 9 months ago
- RT @GodfreyPlata: Vaccinations in #MacArthurPark and #Rampart here: bit.ly/holavacc If you have any Qs, join @HeartofLA’s Zoom Q&… 1 year ago
- 💯🌲 twitter.com/MohammadHussai… 1 year ago
- 🧘🏽♀️ twitter.com/Rumi_Quote/sta… 1 year ago
- Keep it simple and consistent 🤍 twitter.com/JamesClear/sta… 1 year ago
Online website by Tiana Mayumi Martin is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 United States License.