There’s the stoically approach to earthly demise, a beautiful lady’s breast in the mouth, and a belly full of brandy. There’s the Victorian ideal, surrounded by one’s loved one’s, as you gently slip away. There’s the drug befuddled way, cosseted by morphine and tramadol.
There’s the unexpected traffic accident, roof slate, crime victim. There’s self harming, alcohol, drugs, pie’s and cakes. Personally, stepping through the veil in full and clear mind, observing clinically the dissipation of the very fibre of my being sounds like a tremendously exciting adventure. To me it’s the when that intrigues.