The roofs are so flat they look like deserts, sand beaches that make sky, but that is illusion. The reality is as "something beyond beauty and ugliness, bad and good" that the doctor sees, feels, knows blesses. What is going on in that room is impossible to know, for the doc denies it is happening in order to do it and the patient is so grateful for it they immediately forget. It is not the effluvia that lives on but the tenderness behind the agony as if the empty place needed to be filled. So there is something about life that beckons love for a man with softball sized warts on his belly and scrotum that bind his penis to his leg, yes, but it is not the same fungus growing at the base of the anisicanthus in the side yard, yet what is the difference? "Beauty knows her beauty, and we do not recognize it. The ugly one knows her ugliness and we do not recognize it" (Chuang-tzu. Legge II, 41). This was as impossible a reason for being as Christ who gave his body for the redemption of the body. They pass the communion plate with the wafers. The gold reflects off the ceiling above, shines down on the plates as the redeemed passes, doubled, dancing the aisle. As impossible as the forgiveness of sins, the arrival of Miguel Maya at this office in its first week. He had drunk poison, was comatose. His Mexican parents had wrapped him in oregano. We applied first aid, breath, called paramedics for his admission, but when they took him he had no baseline. The ER docs said he wouldn't make it. I didn't know this but saw it on her face when she got home. Dinner was ready for her and the two kids, but when she said he wouldn't make it I could not stand the thought, and declared that he would not die, left the table, went into my room sat on the floor to pray. That was the beginning of this practice.