Every citizen belongs to ten meters DZIDRAS sky overhead. Heaven, who reached for cirrus clouds.

To realize the death, we imagine
the hours when the deceased was we need. Then she is missing. Imagine hours
when we were needed him. Now no longer
he did not need. Imagine a friend
visit time. We look at life in perspective. But the day of the funeral have no prospects, no spaces. The dead are still sašķēlies
pieces. Burial on the day we were in a hurry izsvaidāmies barren, and the handshake
true and false friends, izsvaidāmies tiny, everyday concerns. The deceased died tomorrow, only silence. He will appear in its totality, to his loss of the whole of our being. Then we kliegsim the pain that he had to go and we can not dissuade him.