A cold hardly ever fails to visit me at the turn of the seasons. It is an unwelcome guest indeed, but not anything to make a great fuss about, either. Like an old acquaintance, I can guess roughly what kind of trouble it will bring me, and do not bother to take any pills burdensome to my stomachs.

 

A little heat, a few accompanying symptoms, and the tired feeling. I just accept them without much ado. Some people talk about the drunken feeling, but that is not my lot. I just enjoy the laziness of a few days this guest brings along. It allows me not to feel obliged to read anything serious, and even better, encourages me to ignore petty regulations and what other people think of me. I really find some comfort in it.

 

They say that illness is the worst thing in prison, but not for me. The laziness brought along eases the tension of prison life to a considerable degree. Most pleasant of all is the period of convalescence, during which dynamic energy replaces the tired feeling and my head is filled with clearness. This clearness brings me insights and enables me to reorganize my thought, more than compensating for the time idly wasted.

 

The seasonal cold, like a good sleep, is a healthy rest for me. Also, it is a promise for a new dawn, a new start.

 

[by Shenzi]

 

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