Hello and welcome to Speaking with Joy, a podcast about books, beauty, and music.

So make yourself a cup of tea, sit down and let's begin.

I have a vivid memory of one evening I spent at a friend's house on a beautiful July evening the summer before I went to college. In many ways it was just an ordinary night.

All of my friends and I were feeling sentimental knowing that we were all headed off to college

the next fall. And so we spent the evening outside in the balmy air, the sunset late. We played music

too loudly from our car speakers, probably annoying all of the neighbors. But the reason I remember

the evening is that there was a sort of violent upsetting interruption to it.

At one point we were playing, I think it was Capture the Flag, when one of my friends slipped on the sidewalk,

slammed her head onto the concrete, and slid forward, getting a whole bunch of gravel stuck in her head.

Now, before you get too worried, I want you to know that she went on to be absolutely fine,

live a very happy life, with no negative repercussions.

But at the moment, it was kind of an upset.

For some reason, I've never been particularly squeamish when it comes to blood, and so I

remember I went in with her sister, and I held a rag against her head while her sister

tried to pick pebbles out of her forehead.

And I remember being surprised by how much her head bled, which apparently is fairly typical of head wounds,

is for them to bleed a lot. But I remember being surprised by how bright red it was in comparison to her white,

peeked face and how much it bled.

And I think that evening stuck in my head, because it was then that I realized how rarely we ever

actually come into contact with blood in our normal lives.

We live in a fairly antiseptic world.

We don't have to see blood, and usually if we do, it's a sign that something

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