Crazy Dogs Wishing to Die

Throughout history, death has always been regarded as a natural part of the life cycle. Only recently, viewed through the distorted lens of Western capitalism, that it has become detestable.

Despite all the attempts to remove death from life, to offer the vision of a safe and ordered world, it is impossible to hide the fact that we live in constant fear of death. There is no place for fear on the rooftops; it is the source of self-doubt, hesitation, and failure. It is only afterward, looking back to appreciate the sizable roof gap I have just leaped across, that I can reflect upon death as it is, without the intrusive influence of fear. After landing, I am inundated by a flood of feelings and emotions, a natural response to the shift I experience as my entire universe rapidly expands. The tunnel vision, which reduces everything to a narrow path, an obstacle, and a landing, dissipates. I feel the embrace of the hot sun on my back and the fresh sting of several small grazes on my palms from rolling over sharp stones. The pain is good—it reminds me I am alive. Adjacent copper-domed roofs contrast a sky that has never looked so brilliantly clear, and inquisitive pigeons
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