On the top floor, in the hospital, an old lady is lying in bed.
Her eyelids are fluttering in REM as we speak. They don’t open.
In another room there is there is an old lady lying peacefully. Her daughter and granddaughter are with her.
In the final room, as we enter, and old lady accuses: ‘Why are you making me ill? Why are you making me ill?’
She insists, over and over. ‘I may as well be dead’ I look her in the eye. ‘We are not making you ill.’
‘Go away’
