Death is striding towards us. Death is laughing in the morning air. It's so obvious, so clear. Why can't everyone see it: death, laughing, striding towards us?
Death is a strong-armed man. Death is a lumberjack, carrying a great axe. How healthy death is! How robust! But we are weaklings, saplings, too small for the axe. Our necks are too narrow.
No, we'll not feel it, the axe on our neck. Death will be busy with everyone but us.
Lars Iyer's Blog 