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not yet have planned his funeral. Did not write a will.

I know what is death. Such a figure dressed in a black monk with a scythe in his hand. A bit of a fairy tale, a bit of horror. Unreal and distant. A friend of the elderly, not mine.

And yesterday I was lying on the grass staring at the starry sky and frightened I thought that it would suddenly disappear. That would not be more sunny mornings and rainy weekends. That never again would not have to wake up sleepy in the morning to work, and in the evening sip a glass of wine I could not listen to jazz ...

in my life invades nice café buzz fragrant coffee, long conversations, and in the summer.

O 3 in the morning everything, really everything seems possible!

And by the way, my friend's cat's vet said that the animal is depressed. He got Prozac.

Such times that even cats are sitting in a corner and cry.