Sunday, 28 April 2013

About Death

We die. 

We die very much. 

At a rate of 120,000 humans a day, we die. 

That is one 911 per hour. One Tsunami a day. Half a Holocaust per month. 

In that scheme of things, it is surprising we make such a fuss of our own death. 

We could also just close the eyes and think: this happens every day. Today is just my day. I'm in the same boat as 120,000 others right now. Please don't let me make a fool of myself. Let me be an example of dignity. 

My All Time Favourite Death is the one of Diana Reitman. 

That one was so remarkable that I still remember her name - just one of the extras in the movie Schindler's List. A screen presence of not 2 minutes. Just one of the many people shot in a labour camp. 

She attracts too much attention of the officers, they bring her forward and pull their gun - and Diana Reitman says: "It will take more than that". 

She is shot, drops to the ground, and is gone. A death as in a Russian movie. No fuss, no drama. 

I hope that when the time comes, I will be able to be such a wise person. 

Let's see how my last page will be. In the mean time I just want to live the whole story. 

Sitting on branch 45 of life's tree, and looking down at all those 45 summers and winters that brought me up here, I pretend to be allowed to think to presume to imagine that I can tell a bit about life. 

"That thing that happens to you while you are dreaming of something else". 

Greetings from my hilltop village. 


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