“ I didn’t spend as many hours as she did, for example in the corridors of Harlem Hospital; wasn’t surrounded, as she was, by the stink of blood, the rattle of expiring life; the cold, brutal high-pitched siren of our indifference: On Saturday nights, they pick up a torso here, some legs there, over yonder, a head, one eye here, some legs there, over yonder, some guts draping the garbage can, and they do everything else they can find into a croker sack and bring it to the hospital and say, sew it up! And you know? It’s hard to believe it, but- sometimes we do. And they walk out in the morning, don’t even say thank you.”
James Baldwin “Just Above My Head”, 1979.
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