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Author Topic: De Humani Corporis Fabrica  (Read 1078 times)

bunnie

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De Humani Corporis Fabrica
« on: March 30, 2022, 09:38:04 AM »
CW: Anatomical depictions, corpses.

Immethodically arranged notes, often of medical substance, are fastened within an antiquated cover of cow-hide. The pages are yellowing, slowly, as the journal sees obsessive use.
There are names, many, many names, etched within the makeshift records with great consideration. Darkonese phrases accompany each.

Quote



The mortal body, our natural facility, finds its normalcy in the constitution of the seven natural factors. One's natural factors are most commonly noted as; the humors, the elements, the temperaments, the faculties, the vital principles, the forces, and the organs which constitute the mortal form. Only when the Seven collaborate in a manner of balance, and harmony, is there health – the state of homeostasis. If not, there occurs morbid dysfunction, and pestilence. On the condition that any one of these Seven or their essential components cease to function in entirety, the body terminates with promptness.

Thus, the physician must work within the borders of our natural facility to expedite and correct the standard of health.
When he does this, he works alongside nature as the most natural - and worthy - of healers.

« Last Edit: June 15, 2022, 04:20:25 PM by bunnie »

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Re: De Humani Corporis Fabrica
« Reply #1 on: March 30, 2022, 01:48:19 PM »
« Last Edit: June 15, 2022, 06:41:33 PM by bunnie »

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Re: De Humani Corporis Fabrica
« Reply #2 on: March 31, 2022, 03:09:11 PM »
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A human hand, limp, is etched upon the page. It rested over the side of a block, slack; pliable.
Presumably being that of a cadaver, the skin is strategically decorticated to reveal the anatomy enclosed.

Extirpating afflicted dermis forces the serous fluid to make its way out of the wound, allowing a better inflow of the physician's remedies.
The blistered eschar is surgically removed, incision by incision; as the ailing serosal liquid leaks. Such fluid may be daubed away with a cloth set aside, for ease of hygiene. Any pustules may have their dermal caps removed; the expulsion of both sanguine and moisture is an expectation, as with most stratagem, and thus should be prepared for ahead of its time. Salves formed of honey-bran, or an extract of tea leaves may be used to soak the cloth dressings, to which the wound shall be swathed within. It will sting, if not ache.

“As with the maladies of the flesh, the necrotising rot of our fair society is excised. Only in our expiration are we equal; the lamented remain unconcerned. Blissful ignorance.”
 
Juliette. Mors Immatura.

« Last Edit: June 15, 2022, 04:20:15 PM by bunnie »

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Re: De Humani Corporis Fabrica
« Reply #3 on: April 01, 2022, 07:35:26 PM »
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A new cadaver is pictured, slumped upon the worktop after its dissection. The face is obscured, perhaps left unfinished.
The true focus is upon the empty abdominal cavity; on the lifting of the sternum. A scrawled depiction of a pair of lungs follows; an afterthought.

When one drowns, it comes in waves; in six, countable, inevitable stages. The struggle; the submersion; the aspiration; the unconsciousness; the cardiac failure; and finally, the expiration. A watery termination's effect on the lungs often relies on distinct, clear-cut circumstances. One's findings become less apparent in the setting of putrefaction, as is true with most cadavers – even moreso with the rapid decomposition deriving from the water. And yet; it is often that the lungs shall appear voluminous, and crepitant, with an overlapping of the innermost medial tissue. An incision may be made upon the tissue, to peer at the innermost cavities of the system in search of the presence of heavy fluids, or extravasated blood. These liquids also tend to be admixed with any aquatic debris, such as small leaves; shards of glass; or twigs. The lungs themselves may feel heavy in one's hand, weighted by excess; heavier in the chest of the flagging victim. The next effect relates to the deceased's asphyxiation; the suffocation inherent to the state of drowning.
A pallid, blue-tinged complexion may be noted in victims of drowning. A pruning of the skin as if one were nestled within a bathing tub overlong.
 
Dietrich. Mortem Oppetere.

« Last Edit: June 15, 2022, 04:20:00 PM by bunnie »

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Re: De Humani Corporis Fabrica
« Reply #4 on: April 02, 2022, 04:05:24 PM »
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Muscles, tendons. The decorticated torso of a cadaver is etched upon the page with an affectionate attentiveness.
Instead of a clear, precise entry following, the medic's words are scratchy, the ink smudged. It spirals into obscurities and frustrated scribbles.

One's sensory nerves are the receptive, conductive attendant vessels of the brain, which receive the impression and data of one's senses, or touch. They carry along the psychic force; the spiritus; the very essence of mortal consciousness, with lightning-speed, to our brain - where the very feeling develops, and indeed is felt. When a bullet hits one's side, the signal is noted by our spiritus within such hollowed fibres, pushing itself through to where it may properly be perceived. A moment, perhaps, of shock; adrenaline, until the morbid ache begins. Until the body truly reacts, until the sanguine flows. The shock harms the psyche even as one bleeds out, as one foolishly finds the forgetful beginning.
What is self-preservation when one is too stunned to speak, let alone think?

These prejudiced divinities of life have failed him, and betrayed me. Why was I deserving of the cursed return, if he was not?

Why me, and not him? Why me, and not him? Why me, and not him? Why me, and not him? Why me, and not him? Why me, and not him? Why me, and not him? Why me, and not him? Why me, and not him? Why me, and not him? Why me and not hi...

Pierre. Mature Decedere.

« Last Edit: June 15, 2022, 04:19:42 PM by bunnie »

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Re: De Humani Corporis Fabrica
« Reply #5 on: April 06, 2022, 08:44:46 PM »
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The human heart. A pair etched upon the page, anterior and posterior, sized awkwardly within their allocated space.
Another is depicted as a half of a whole; a detailed rendition of the heart's internal cavities. Below, the medic trails off into enigmatic scribbles once more.

“There is one organ in the body which, if it is well, the whole body is well; and if it is ill, the whole body is ill. And that organ is the heart.”

The king of the mortal form's organs, is the heart. The mortal core; it is the very biological furnace that combusts and infuses the body's most important forces and heats into the bloodstream with every beat and pulse. The raw pneuma of the lungs is taken, converted, assimilated into the most potent of forms; the Vital Force, and the truest fuel; pneuma zoticon. To keep the heart's own innate heat from overwhelming it; to protect the heart from pulsatory friction, it is encapsulated and constantly bathed within the internal sea. An ocean of rich blood, that feeds the core through its coronary arteries. This is what designates the heart as a primary accumulation site for the sanguine humor. An example. Subject presented with complaints of chest pain... Suffering from restlessness, mania, insomnia; delirium..

Germaine. Mortem Obire.

« Last Edit: June 15, 2022, 04:19:25 PM by bunnie »

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Re: De Humani Corporis Fabrica
« Reply #6 on: April 10, 2022, 01:05:53 AM »
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An excerpt, tiny and attentive, accompanied by the dried petals of a lily.


“I am not resigned to the shutting away of young hearts in the ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.”

May the sins of your mortality be washed away with the eternal rest.
We bless you with true forgiveness now, and forevermore. Forget peacefully.

Arielle, Juliette. Mors Vincit Omnia.

« Last Edit: June 15, 2022, 04:18:59 PM by bunnie »

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Re: De Humani Corporis Fabrica
« Reply #7 on: May 11, 2022, 10:28:20 PM »
Quote

No fanfare is offered, the etching silent and pensive. A singular petal is pressed to the page; an orchid.

“They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.”

He would never.
Would he?

Jacques. Mors Immatura.

« Last Edit: June 15, 2022, 03:53:14 PM by bunnie »