timor mortis conturbat me

These are the days of dying: Christopher Hitchens, Vaclav Havel, Kim Jong Il. Famous people, of whom I know nothing. Closer to home, the Saab marque died; we have had Saabs since we first married, and we still have two now. But Saab is not a person, and has no feelings, whatever its followers may feel.

The bloke next door died, too. I reported in my last post that he was grumpy; his widow tells me that he was not, and that they laughed till the end. It may be heartening that his pragmaticism overcame understandable self-pity; but to what end? I look in the glass doors that I walk through and I see grey hair. Who knows? Twenty, thirty years? He was only 70. And I throw my time away on trivialities.

What happened? the time is nearing, and the reaper stalks the halls…

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