Faultline, Vol. 23

“Dad is dying. He shuffles around his kitchen with a plastic tube coming out of his stomach. It’s connected to a clear bag that hangs from the waistline of his pants. The tube is filled with bubbles of partially digested food that move as slow as a slug into the bag. It’s mostly liquid, light brown, and lumpy. To look at it requires a tough stomach, the ability to suppress revulsion.”