In college, while printing a book I read Victor Frankl column of Squella in the Mercury. It was not bad, a bit scientific for examination after the test had.
The central issue on which he turned was suicide, it qualified as the most radical decision that a man can take. It also suggested that the change to which the deceased is subject tamb ien the longest journey and frantic imaginable. Cell developed around a vision or something similar on certain patterns that could contain something like fated cells, leading to or at least prone to depression and any consequences thereof, including suicide. Moreover, it stated a recent research on our own thinking is merely a genetic determination: that tragic! ...
But let us stick to the topic of death, since that seems more productive for a shot that beat us we cross from side to side to write on dubious scientific research, at least to certain characters - politicians, philosophers, one or two letters - have been unenviable generated account veneration, all kinds of memories and commemorations number. Bukowski suggested already, better to do something with style in the manner of Hemingway who spent a lifetime collecting chantas value for a bullet in the head because a nurse in World War touched fight - can not remember which, let it launched preferring to go with a doctor, who had saved himself in the same war, the first leg to gangrene.
But if death is suicide with a label attached with a message that sounds like will have a hidden secret, I'd rather die like the old tale Fontanarrosa attending the stadium as one who willingly abducted end up calling all , singing, taking the good mate, to finally die surprisingly dry, but bequeathing a pure envy and mocking all the guys who saw him topple.
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