A woman dressed in red with hair as white as snow. Her eyes are wide and round, like saucers painted robin's egg blue. She looks perpetually in surprise at what is around her; or perhaps it is awe. I do not know who this woman is, and I do not know her name, and she does not see me standing across from her.
The woman leans towards me suddenly and opens her mouth, which she has kept puckered in a small circle. Open, it barely expands a few inches. She speaks intentionally and loudly, but she speaks without looking at me.
She says, "I'm a hundred years old."
Or maybe she had said, "I'm a hundred years old!"
It is difficult to tell emotive motives when not being addressed and not being seen.
I don't know this woman and I don't know her name and I don't know that she knows I am here, where she is not looking. I walk away without asking questions. I am just passing through here.
There is no fear of death if you cannot predict death.
What you don't know can't hurt you, consciously.
If a fact is unconscientious but exists then it has not been proven and it remains - for you - a theory.
If you don't know that you are dying, then who is to tell you that you will die?
If you don't think that you are dying, then who is to tell you that you will die?
We do know it will happen therefore we expect it to happen.
We cannot predict it therefore we cannot prepare for it.
We can only assume it is always around the corner or ahead of us beyond our sight of the horizon.
A bullet travels faster than the sound of it being fired.
If you resist the urge to come up for air you will pass out before you drown.
Hypothermia will steal your senses before freezing steals your life.
A hundred years is a long time to keep your eyes on the horizon.
For how long can you stare at the sun?