The miseries of the damned are greater than those of those who have nothing to give.
The black birds go there, gobbling everything up and delighting in, at least, the remains.
Perhaps we are in time for the pains to be felt and not to avoid them.
There in the next star the future past awaits us and we incarnate ourselves as winged beings, which are not the most friendly.
From the bread before the ferment and from the bread, before, only water!
Life unfolds in death like a divine comedy that turns out not to be such.