DHR
I have not really wanted to write, for so many reasons. The easiest, who plead that can not speak and never read these lines (obituary, funeral rites). Why, when it was over for someone, spend what is not wanted to give his time? But that is not a pretext, the easy excuse that conceals apathy, resentment, apathy, listlessness. Of course, merit has nothing to do. What merit I throw myself to talk about it? What based judge who does not deserve a few words, to decide who it the espresso? Since it is not merit-the deserve it, do not deserve to say them, I, "or to settle debts or compensation because they do not form part of any dialogue, why write? Perhaps, then, match the attention they have received, not yet want or expect, the reason for his death, although no one who has known both the read never-at least I hope, " circumstantially associated in the minds of others, the sympathy and condolence, addressed to me by mistake, I appreciate incomplete. Something is missing, as if those who knew her and grieve omitted, or ignorant, will affectionate, determined, the person you speak (which I think is omitted, or ignored, to such person concerning only, " concealment will need to assert a link between those who remain alive?). That will still not be eager to write, I talk now, even if it costs.
complicated, talk to someone in this format without talking about myself.
Diana, was appointed in life, and she took that name, used it to name since I met him until I left to know, a few hours less than a hundred, nearly 72 of receiving the news. It was a beautiful woman, at 26 years, and it was at 20, and I suppose also before. Alegre, ready for life, committed to their own desires. I do not remember the event or occasion will not be shown in a modest-vanity-with great enthusiasm for something, even by the number present at the time, with each and every one of those to be treated. Complicated, no doubt that enthusiasm sometimes confusing to people: there were some who believed loved, when they condescended simply time between classes, and never beyond colloquial greeting. There were those who came to be loved, as they moved closer confusion confident in the ease of the conquest: none of them was straightforward-how would have been with someone who enjoys the wind blowing on the skin with the same intensity as year's most anticipated concert, "and yet those who succeeded, knew happiness. There were those who, without enjoying the delights of love of them all, by choice, fell within this category, "enjoyed his friendship, friendship bright and pleasant. And there were those who lost their chance. She, for all, was source of joy, human contact, happy. This seemed always natural, able to enjoy the solitude and, if he or plywood, to capitalize for their own affairs, with perseverance and dedication second to none, "was a person at ease with itself, hence, sympathetic to others.
Why, then, decided to cease to be?
know some details, rather few. Completely unaware of what might have thought the last few hours earlier. I fail to think of all of its reasoning further. But, it reached a glimpse, in his last words, which was not a fit, or a whim, or cowardice, nor. Quite the contrary. I see them, explaining his act before (obituary funeral mortuary ritual) decision, courage, valor, security:
"I have no desire to live with it"
much I admired these days the final farewell. As the duel ends, I see this remains admiration for what they say, and what they imply. Have you ever talked to Camus and The Myth of Sisyphus, and I find their actual words and words of then not only words, but poured herself another unreservedly expressed. And while I have had conflicting feelings and emotions about it, I find I admire him, evocatively, by his conviction that as he pleases, even leaving therefore not be more pleased. Few people die for their taste, even less convinced. But here she died I am sure fully exercises his rights, the only human rights restricted: the right to die.
Manuel Emilio Castillo Silva,
Lomas Verdes, on January 4, 2011.
Lomas Verdes, on January 4, 2011.
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Mentidero of Fallacies. Virgilio Sofistófeles .
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