The New York Times carries a feature on Thai forensics pathologist Pornthip Rojanasunand.
BANGKOK— THE mild-mannered bank manager poked his head into the doorway, then quickly pulled it back. His wife was at work, and he did not want to look. He has never looked. He is afraid of corpses.
If the body on the stainless steel table inside had somehow awakened for a moment, it might have jumped, too, with shock.
Bending over it, with hungry fascination, was a woman whose head was covered with dark red spikes, whose lips were the color of dried blood, whose gloved fingernails, as she prepared to slice the body open, were encrusted with spangles.
Or perhaps the body would have said, as a dying accident victim once did, ”Oh, hello, Dr. Death.”
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