the beginning was not the beginning

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• +..synsonic


• +..techno

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I have never forgotten one encounter with a woman in the Zurich city asylum where I did some of my clinical training. She gave me one of my first lessons about the vital necessity of imagination. At issue was her heart. She sat in a wheelchair because she was elderly and feeble. She told the psychiatrist interviewing her that she was dead because she had lost her heart. He asked her to place her hand on her breast to feel her heart beating: It must still be there, if she could feel it beat. “That,” she said, “is not my real heart.” They looked at each other. We apprentices looked on. Nothing more was said.
Hillman, James.