Misha the Maniac, from “Ύβρις”

Posted: 23/11/2022 by vequinox in Literature

To Koskino

THE HOLY CITY

Starving, emaciated and completely insane.
I am dragged out of the house in the early hours of morning. The sun bright and flaming. Clutching an icon of Jesus Christ and praying for salvation.
All night long phoning emergency services, pleading with them for an urgent liver biopsy. My liver was turning to rot and I had little time left.
I had neither taken communion nor confessed in the past week, which meant I was destined for the pits of hell.
I remember the Jewish boy on the ward and the corned-beef dinners. And how long it took me to gain strength to walk.
On a hospital bed. A feeding tube pumping sustenance into my body. Sedate and lithe. Hums and beeps.
The Jamaican nurse sang me a gospel hymn after I showed her my religious bracelet.
I pieced through my meal to the verses of “Holy, Holy…

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