Travel experiences of a wandering cell: on top of the nasal conchae, Fritz Kahn, 1924
I leave in less than a week. My nose is completely congested, my breath persistently labored and constricted, and I have absolutely no idea how I'm going to survive in a formaldehyde-filled lab for 30 minutes, yet alone three weeks. It's not the pollen, but if you say something about that I'll likely nod in apparent agreement. It's just easier than going into what's actually happening, which I don't understand. I'm not super concerned, and I'm also slightly concerned that I'm not concerned. It's just going to have to work out. And I'm reminded that life is always working out, even when it seems like it's not working. That there's never life going wrong, there's only life.
