Who By Very Slow Decay
- I guess I always pictured dying as â€“ unless you got hit by a truck or something â€“ a bittersweet and strangely beautiful process. Youâ€™d grow older and weaker and gradually get some disease and feel your time was upon you. Youâ€™d be in a nice big bed at home with all your friends and family gathered around. Youâ€™d gradually feel the darkness closing in. Youâ€™d tell them all how much you loved them, there would be tears, you would say something witty or pious or defiant, and then you would close your eyes and drift away into a dreamless sleep.