I am posting Greg's latest post as it is so powerful. What more can words say? ONLY POETRY CAN BEGIN TO EXPRESS PROFOUND SUFFERING. TO WITNESS LINDA WEEPING IN TORMENT DEFIES WORDS, IT IS SO HORRIBLE. Utterly broken by the noise assault upon my being It enters into every nook and cranny of my existence, every cell, every organ, it seems, And devours me from the inside, paralysing me from head to toe, so that time after time, no part escapes. I am tormented. I am scalded with pain. I am raging at the injustice: the continued violation of my home, my living space, my body, my life, my cells, battered, twisted, demolished, repeatedly till I can no longer bear another second of the horror of it. It defines my life. It breaks me into tiny fragments so that my body will not, cannot, is not able to hold me up, to feel, to move, to think, to escape this daily torture from loud and violating noise attacks to even simple ordinary things. It is unrelenting and a violent assault upon an already weak and fractured body. My life is being torn from me And ripped apart repeatedly, with crass ignorance And deliberate carelessness or abuse of power and might or simply, just by being in the room with me now, in the wrong moment, in the wrong way, at the wrong angle, without realising the danger at hand, till I am left weeping and diminished, my soul crying for mercy and tattered from decades of medical neglect.