The act of dying
is like hitch-hiking
into a strange town
late at night
where it is cold
and raining,
and you are alone
again.
Suddenly
all the street lamps
go out
and everything
becomes dark,
so dark
that even the buildings
are afraid
of one another.
by Richard Brautigan (January 30, 1935 – September 14, 1984)
Gratitude statement: I am thankful that I haven't journeyed to this "strange town" yet.