Perhaps the essence of our existence lies not in the act of dying, but in the contemplation of how to depart, how to bid farewell to a life that feels fragmented, incomplete. How do we relinquish our presence when we have never truly inhabited our own lives? How do we depart when we have never learned to linger, to truly be?

Our identity is a delicate web of perceptions woven from the memories we cling to, a patchwork of experiences and emotions that ebb and flow at the whim of circumstance. We define ourselves by what we hold dear, what we choose to remember, and what we cherish most deeply. In the face of death, we confront the very essence of life, a life that often feels elusive, slipping through our fingers like grains of sand.

Perhaps death is the distant point that unsettles us, for it forces us to confront the enigma of our own existence. It offers rest for the soul that has resided within the confines of the body, but what about us, who still seek to unravel the mysteries of our own being?

As we grapple with the enigma of our own existence, we are left to ponder the significance of our presence in this world. We are left to navigate the complexities of our own identity, to seek solace in the fragments of our memories and the echoes of our deepest affections. Perhaps the true journey lies not in the act of dying, but in the pursuit of understanding who we are, and what we leave behind in the tapestry of our lives.

© Beatriz Esmer