My son asks about the significance of different cards. When you play poker not everybody can lose. It starts to rain. The man next to me in the ward coughs up blood, tosses all night, for days tells me amazing stories, is kind. There is a vast ceiling, weeping, curtains drawn, whispers and wails of those that have loved.
Every reader is a dying man looking for distraction.
The man next to me knows me from somewhere else, admits he is a doctor.