Death.
When I thought about death, it always occurred to me how peaceful it would be to die on the outside - you came out of the ground and went into it, and wild animals ate your remains. And so, I'm lying in a forest clearing, blood is flowing from my forearm. The sun is shining on me through the leaves of the trees, birds are singing, dragonflies are buzzing. What have I done? I will no longer be able to feel the warmth of the sun and the freshness of the wind. Life goes on around me while it's fading away in me. The usual rhythm of nature hasn't changed with my death, but it's over for me. I hope that hell doesn't really exist, and my mind will sink into oblivion. I hope that the wild foxes will be fed.october 5, 2025