It helped to pretend, but you'll never forget seeing the torn flesh, the broken bones, the blood.And then there was the bizarre journey to the hospita..., sitting in the back of the ambulance on the gurney, trying to console yourself, feeling frustrated that you couldn't even hold your own hand, how everything just went through you when you tried to touch it. That was hard: trying not to freak out, trying not to believe that you were dead, or at least dying.And then the operation. You couldn't. Before I could buy the next drink however a text message beeped. Her facial expression changed to worry and concern. "Sorry, I need to leave now. I see you tomorrow at the exhibition?". I said my good-bye - not even a hug - saw her leave the bar in a hurry and got back to my drink. Surely, this was her boy friend. A twinge of disappointment made me down the dreggs in my glass and go home.The next day I was quite surprised to actually meet her at the museum. "I needed to be on time because I. More

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