This is a brief story of images and words, death and life. To get to it I have to tell you something about my body.
I’m 76, relatively fit and pretty carefree. While I’m constantly restless, I’ve never done serious exercise or gone to the gym and have been untroubled about my diet. I used to justify this to myself with Freud’s claim that it is “impossible to imagine one’s own death”; taking it as a permission to be careless. I only survived such irresponsibility thanks to my meeting Judith when we were young - and who knew how to live when I did not.
Of course there is wear and tear. Some implants where otherwise there would be gaps in my teeth; hearing aids since a virus knocked out my left inner ear; my glasses need upgrading most years. I’ve had little scares and been prodded and examined and found to be OK. But wear and tear and the odd knock seemed only to confirm my invulnerability.
