Rather than letting them die of starvation, of dehydration, of freezing, of sickness, of loneliness, isn't it wiser to not let them be born? We multiply by chance and live more and more barbarically.

To die alone is how would blow out a candle that someone forgot alight in this lonely world...

Who is beyond me? Who cries at the other end of the day? God, where is the light? What have I done with it?

Does it matter if you were rich or starved when you died? It does: the worms will swear at you, and the bacteria for being too acidic, or too scrawny, and, of course, your descendants if they are profiteers, if you haven't left them enough/anything.

We build ourselves as existence, we are born, we grow, and grow old with our death. The death of every creature has its own age, plus something (maybe nohope), with a minus!

The stories of our lives – pages from the book of future, browsed one by one or in bulk.