Читать книгу The Styx - Patricia Holland - Страница 34

How did I feel back then? There’s not a word for it. You’d have to have something like Rett Syndrome and have the pain thing and the epileptic thing happening, to have made up a word to reach that feeling. There are probably almost words for the people who died at Auschwitz. The survivors write about it. Do they find words that properly fit?

Are there words for when, every day in every country right now and forever ago, people are locked up for life, people are tortured, people have no say in anything they do or what happens to them? Are there enough words for that? People with Rett, people with other syndromes and diseases that lock them into an unconnected body—unconnected except to feel scared, panic, pain, horror and hopelessness. They know it will never end. No one’s going to save the virtual vegetables. I don’t think there are any survivors to write about that. I don’t think enough words exist. Yet.

But I was saved. By that thing in the box sitting there for three weeks because no one knew how to use it, and as I was the only one allowed to use it, it was a waste of time and effort in working out how to set it all up. And it was taking up space.