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September 23, 2013







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I have been thinking about this text, written by the brilliant author Etgar Keret, which I first read in last week’s “We Think Alone” email from Miranda July:

Asthma Attack
When you have an asthma attack, you can’t breathe. When you can’t breathe, you can hardly talk. To make a sentence all you get is the air in your lungs. Which isn’t much. Three to six words, if that. You learn the value of words. You rummage through the jumble in your head. Choose the crucial ones–those cost you, too. Let healthy people toss out whatever comes to mind, the way you throw out the garbage. When an asthmatic says “I love you,” and when an asthmatic says “I love you madly,” there’s a difference. The difference of a word. A word’s a lot. It could be “stop,” or “inhaler.” It could be “ambulance.”

  1. September 23, 2013 11:34 am

    That piece from Keret has been haunting me since I read it last week. Make sure you read the short story he wrote called “Todd,” which is linked to in this week’s “We Think Alone”… he’s quickly becoming a favorite.

  2. September 24, 2013 9:47 am

    It struck a chord with me, too. Probably because I have asthma, but I honestly never thought about it like that.

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