Become gracefully old. Our pleasures in life revisit us and take up lodging in our frame. Where once we aggressively pursued our pleasures, in those precise locations, now we clearly contemplate dramatic rips in the fabric of our physical being. Each has its own texture, its own sensory modality. This is dying. That which you were was life spurting outwards; that which you will be, is death, or nothingness, the Silence.