In my artist’s book Ill, On Being (2023) I find community in the writings of other chronically ill people. The book takes the form of a card catalog drawer, and on each card is a quotation about the experience of illness. The book begins with Virginia Woolf’s famous comment in her essay “On Being Ill”: “English, which can express the thoughts of Hamlet and the tragedy of Lear, has no words for the shiver and the headache.” Many of the typed passages are from Woolf’s diary where, amidst entries about her writing, she chronicles experiences with influenza, headache, tremors, and more. Her entries converse with passages from more than thirty other writers, as well as many, many Long Covid patients posting on Twitter. At the front of the drawer appear cards framing the alienating experience of illness. From there, cards are organized by symptom and/or the part of the body affected by illness: “blood,” “headache,” immunity,” “nerves,” “pain,” etc. I am not interested in doctors’ diagnoses, though a few passages address the harms diagnosis can bring, as well as the often disheartening search for diagnosis. (The one exception is “#LongCovid,” as that name came from patients themselves.) Because many of the cards could be filed in more than one category, I include cross-reference cards at the beginning of each section, like similar cards in “actual” library catalogs. Most of the passages are typed on the back of actual old catalog cards, with varying degrees of yellowing and wear. The rest are typed on other found papers, including handmade paper, fragile pieces of sewing patterns, papers with varying degrees of translucence, flexible foam, and even black construction paper where the text is not easily legible. To find the words of others with similar experience can be a relief, even if not a relief of symptoms. Because I imagine this piece as a balm for other chronically ill people, the book is accompanied by a card reading “PLEASE TOUCH,” and even though (because?) touch introduces additional wear and tear, visitors are invited to thumb through the drawer as they might that of a card catalog.