i sure don't remember it
if I were experiencing coming down a shute, with red mango flesh sqeezing around my head. i still don't think I'd realize it. It was pretty dark in there I suppose and when you reach the light at the end of the tunnel you're so damn cold and wet you don't care what's going on. It feels like needing a fix, it's like Ewan McGregor coming out of the worst toilet in Ireland.
death-spontaneous oblivion, romantic.
or you get cancer and have to wait and plan and suffer.
which is as simple as that.