yeah, though we walk lightly, we walk in the grid of the shadow of death. i walk slow, and mister walks slower. 
the emotional aspect of sickness is tricky. especially in the grid, by the looming vortex, with a giant amazon delivery truck coming for you. i actually stopped the amazon truck and made him back up to go around me as he cursed my existence. but at least he saw me. i know i now exist in the poor sap's mind, though hatefully. then i'm honked at while having the temerity to ride in the so-called bike lane. curse, honk, curse, honk, curse honk. three times a charm. no harm. except my heart is beating in my skin. the enmity, the aggression, the indifference, the hostility, just to ride from point a to b. yeah, verily, america is a hateful country.