Hello, Death, how are you, old friend? How long has it been since we last met? And among all those times, we always spoke about the same things. Will today be the day we travel? Or will we merely talk about life and its essence? About how the breath simply fades away when we are distracted and find ourselves lost, breathless from bearing the pain of living... But we always talk about the same things. Can we decide when it is the end? Is it better to stop while we are ahead? How to know if it is still worth it? Am I already invisible, or is it just my impression? Maybe I am already lost... Or perhaps, I am simply wrong. Shall we cling to hope? Shall we look for the good in everything? Shall we be amazed by each day, and bless every second? Or shall we then dance at the edge of the abyss, gambling and betting everything, forcing ourselves against each other to bring peace, until, perhaps, in due time, you will embrace me in your arms, changing the scenery and setting me free to start anew. And, after some time, we will talk once more about these same things.

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