Death is a beautiful woman, always by my side. She’ll kiss me one day, I know. She’s a companion who reminds me not to postpone anything — ‘Do it now, do it now, do it now.’ Her voice is not threatening, just constant. It tells me what matters is not how long I live, but how I live. I was once stranded in the Mojave Desert, running out of water, and without having read any of the manuals that tell you how to survive in the arid lands. And once, I got lost while climbing in the Pyrenees. Both times, I thought I would be leaving this life, but I didn’t. Five months ago, I went to the doctor for a medical check-up. I would never have done it on my own accord; my best friend forced me to. Her father had just died, and she insisted that all her friends should do a stress test for the heart.
