Sometimes, things die, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.
Death comes. Sneakily, it creeps up on us, when we are at our most unsuspecting. It seeps into our lives, into every crevice, spreading its staleness and gloom.
It doesn’t announce its arrival; we would be prepared. It doesn’t grow too fast; we would notice.
The mastery of its coming is that when we realise its here- it’s too late. Death is inevitable.







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