Sometimes With A Sign, Seldom Without

Mortals think that death comes upon us swiftly— sometimes with a sign, seldom without. When the truth is that we’ve always been vanishing. From the minute we were yielded, we have a confined number of gasps and smirks and starts and flashes to live through and to breathe for. I think it is the amplest that we spend them sensibly. Death is one of the only real things in our memoirs, but we rarely discuss or even recollect about it.