Tomorrow was and is a particle of dust in the symphonic orchestra of cosmic life. And for certain individuals, there’s a volitional understanding that the sole source of trust in life rests in each breath that they’re able to take, because for them, they’ve lost a reason to live — or rather, the desire to create for themselves une raison d’être. We might as well count them dead. There are millions of them walking this earth — ghosts among sanguine creatures.

Many of us are cowards to a certain extent. There are cowards who, in their crippling fear of nothingness or of ceasing to exist, remain stagnant. Then there are cowards who, after having jumped off the cliff and reached a temporary stage of imminent death, lack the will to go on — as if midway someone had placed brakes on their acts of rebellion against what’s seemingly life, but is in reality a rebellion against death itself.

It’s the latter coward for whom I hold the deepest respect, for despite their own self-imposed deaths, these are courageous heroes who’ve experienced the depths of life in all its colourful debris. These are the individuals who are aware of the secret of our cosmic existence: that life and death are two sides of the same coin. Everything else is folly.