I felt for the bandage my husband had secured around my chin the night before. Disparate verses from one of my favorite poems, by Wislawa Szymborska, looped through my mind: It could have happened. The thing is, I wasn’t OK. Here’s what they don’t tell you about falls: You keep falling again and again. You are an astronaut, floating and flailing through space, while everyone surrounding you seems to be on terra firma.

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Persons: Wislawa, ”, “, banister, Virginia Woolf’s, Dalloway Locations: firma