Wednesday, July 24, 2002
So often as we eat ordinary bread, we may remember our own death, for even hunger and thirst are diseases; they are mors quotidiana, a daily death, and if they lasted long, would kill us.

This is from a sermon of John Donne's (glad that I haven't started the notes too bleakly!), and in it I am drawn to the dailyness, to the ordinary moment-to-moment linking to death. The immediacy and tenuousness of our existence, and the body's role in both shackling us to death and being the only thing that separates us from it in our own individual and limited consciousness. It is a wonderful and paradoxical relationship, one that I explore in the book.


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