All night you breathe my hyphae. Your white blood cells seek, then eat me; snip, stop my stitch-up. You won’t face months of coughing up buttons, dark mucous plugs. No x-rays for balls of my silks. No drugs trying to heal where I left all my needles. Caroline Hawkridge, Writer-in-Residence, National Aspergillosis Centre. Share this postLatest News posts Nothing found. News archive Nothing found. This content has been archived. It may no longer be relevant