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Death and the 'Family'

A friend who studied in the UK told us this:

In a UK medical education you begin with anatomy. 18 year old kids arrive at university, and are assigned a dead body to work on. They work on this body for six months before it is taken away and cremated. These bodies are either those of people who have donated their bodies to science or of people who cannot be identified. The relationship that forms between these young people and "their" body is very intense. The bodies are given names and become a dominant force in the students' lives. During this time the students smell perpetually of the chemicals used to preserve the body. Nearly all medical students have regular emotional breakdowns during this period, triggered especially by things they discover about the life of the person concerned. All personal markings etc are supposed to be removed, but certain signs remain. One body had a tattoo and pink nail polish. One student was traumatised to find shit in the colon of her body, because it signified life.

At the end of the period of study, the body is released for burial or cremation. Students attend these events and often give speeches about what the body has meant to them, especially if the body has been donated to science. Families also attend, if the identity of the body is known, and students ask endless questions about the life of the person concerned. They are usually no less emotional at the cremation than the families.
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Hands on Wall



Hands on Wall (Southend on Sea)

A picture found by chance while browsing inside my computers lost files. Taken, then forgotten, then remembered again. Continuing in the spirit of building a body from the surfaces of walls. Walls had ears, walls have eyes, walls have hands.
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Walls Have Eyes
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Walls Have Eyes



I always knew walls had ears. Recently, I have come to know that walls have eyes too. Once you begin looking for them you notice walls looking back at you, inquisitively. It is quite remarkable to think of the kind of things that a wall just stands back and watches. Here is a wall in Chandni Chowk in Old Delhi that stared right back at me some weeks ago. (It also advertises an 'Eye Camp' for free ocular check up)

And here is another wall with eyes - this time looking out into the middle distance behind me in Paghman, Afghanistan.
Related Entries:
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Death and the 'Family'
Graffiti in Delhi
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