I used to think of myself as the surface of a block of
marble: as if I was dragged towards the outside limit of myself and became my
surface by the opinion of others. I was mistaken. I am also the figure within
the marble but I am free to be in any part of my interior. I see this thanks to the
presence of Parkinson’s in my life. It has chipped away at the exterior of the
marble and revealed parts of me I never knew existed (e.g. courage, even
greater stubbornness and a fighting spirit). As in sculpture, taking away
something can also be a means to add something.
The tragedy of Parkinson’s is it doesn’t stop chipping the
marble away…
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