Well but, everything has an end, and an earthworm it has two.
My family is so poor that we combined my father’s funeral with my 50th birthday.
That’s one of the worst things about getting old. That people allow themselves to die before you.
An amazing breathlessness arises because we fill our lives with emptiness and Facebook. In a discussion about the empty calories of Facebook, someone close to me said with great seriousness: “I have 190 friends on Facebook.” Then I replied: “Yes, but hardly one of them will pick up your coffin the day you leave here.” Why not use the time for some fewer and real friends in the real world.
I was mortified that she disappeared before me, sitting at her writing desk, surrounded by classical music. A cerut in hand and a glass of whisky within reach.
And what happens when you go away? When life’s shirt gets too short? Where is the common thread? You have to become something!