Time of Death

When the first drop falls, it is like her whole card falls. She knows that it sounds like her back of the hand, she can only see the thumb if we are talking about her hand. Forgetting things you do not remember is a strange concept, but this is what she plans to do. At first, she was there to get it done. She almost cheated myself, she can easily move, but you know, the weather is already happening. Several weeks later, she can smile and sometimes laugh again, without being caught up with the weight of her chest.

I know that there are many metaphor in this little story. But this is an accurate explanation of time and anxiety of death. There are three main metaphor in this fable. Beasts and dragons represent death. Black and white mouse represents night and day. Honey represents a beautiful thing of life, a material thing that we insist and work hard. Tolstoy's loved one - he called it two drops - was his writing and his family. At some point in his life, those wonderful things lost their function and meaning. It is only his death that he can see. Basically speaking, this is the most convincing and dangerous form of nihilism. Death is unavoidable, so it is not a problem! What is the point? If you finish now, I will not enjoy anything anymore.

If you were born in this world, death is inevitable, so you may completely experience some kind of death. The point is whether death is a good thing or a bad thing. Everyone living in this society will face death in some way. Life is not eternal. A man dies at a certain age, ending his life due to natural death or accidental death (Lynch, 1997). There are many ways that humans can die. This death increases the fear of human nature. At some point, humans fear the cause of this imbalance.

Sitting across the table death and time, death wearing her white cloak, his black hat time, death and her shining sickle, time and his curved cane, under the trees of the garden's life tree Stretching in huge, facing the perfect sky. As they do everyday, they have problems in solving the old conflict. Or this was not indignation, it was a simple question or a question that has not been answered yet. Everything is present. "No doubt," death ridiculously said, just directing the tip of her sickle on a big tree. During the blinking, the leaves begin to round on the inside, turn brown, and become brittle like wastepaper. She has a sickle company. And, throughout the day, we begin to change trees that have never been raised to black and gray anywhere until the sky comes into limbs.