Reflections: A Random Note

The following was found on my computer table at home, scribbled in pencil on a note card, undated other than by my given age:

I am 72 years old and have reached a place where I know I am going to die. This expectation of death is no longer just an intellectual concession -- it is a gut certainty. It is also a visible and sensual physical perception; somatic, emotional, and on a persistent, conscious, mental loop.

Nice place to be, huh?

Reflections: Who Was It That Died?

I'm like a ghost, haunting my own space.