the only thing which is given for sure is our final destination.
no matter how we get to it, life is a bitter fruit, in the end.
i used to see my grandma riding her guzzi motorbike when she was 86.
at 87 she caught a stroke, and she still survives although her life is totally deprived of all joy.
she used to be a very tough woman: now that she's buried alive, she just can't stand it.
i wish she could be herself again, in some other world