One afternoon I cuddled up to what was left of her and cried like a child. She tried to cradle me like a mother.
- Don't cry, darling. It will be alright.
- What if your pain is from cancer?
- Well then I’ll die from cancer.
- But you might need serious pain medication.
- No more pills.
Sometimes, for a few days or weeks she’d forget not to eat and drink, put on a few grams and get back to making political predictions:
That Boris Johnson, he’ll be next Prime Minister, mark my words.
To transgenderise Roth writing about his father: