In a paper gown somewhere in Georgetown my sister is waiting. Mammography. You know how it is when you are in one of those paper gowns; you start reading Sports Illustrated or a National Geographic about a tribe of head shrinker Amazonian shamans or whatnot, poison darts, and that actually seems preferable?
I think, if given the opportunity, I would lick the back of a treefrog to have a hallucination of feathered snakes talking to me like this one anthropologist did after drinking some weird plant in Peru I listened to it on the To The Best of Our Knowledge podcast. It's called "participatory anthropology." I think we're all involved in some form of it.
He said the feathered snakes made him aware in a way that he had never been before that he was just a human. And that changed his life.
How would one of those last remaining uncontacted people, a Flesheiro, or People of the Arrow react to being in a paper gown? I wonder about that sometimes. Like, is this normal? Perhaps we should leave uncontacted vast swaths of internal Amazonia.
In life there is a lot of down time. Weird, consider-your-options, twiddle-your-thumbs time, between catching a glimpse of a disappearing human form in the jungle, then having the arrow whizz past your ear.