When a life passage is in the offing, you don’t need to dot the eyes (i’s). You merge into the exit with the actual event, even it is death, an after thought that almost gets lost, following the initial shock. The deceased is at first surrounded by mourners then dies alone as the funeral cortège turn their backs on the grave diggers with their shovels. Then a new stage begins for the survivors who are left with little more than memories and a headstone which is more likely to be inscribed hic sum rather than quo vadis?
read the review ofThe Wormhole Society by Francis levy and Joseph Silver in The East Hampton Star

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