Looking down onto the floor of the consultation room in Bantry Hospital, stains of worry, real ones / not imagined, the linoleum never being replaced in many decades due to lack of funding.
There is no necessity either, after all we only walk on it, patients, doctors, nurses, all alike. But the reality of it feels like an anachronism in these modern times of the western civilization, telling the true story of imperfection rather than the perfect cover up with an immaculate floor. No immaculate conception here. At least these stains are honest, but we don’t like to see them there on the floor, so we look up to the ceiling for salvation, only to stare into a clean and clinical neon light, the cold strip light that strips us of our warm humanity and makes us look down again to seek comfort in the worrying stains. We try not to picture where they actually come from. We won’t go there. At least most people walk out of here, maybe even over the stains.