What if the life we live is nothing but an illusion, a journey in the hands of time? What if it is only a transition; from one world to another? If it is so, then why do we miss the people that we loose? Why does it hurt to watch them go away? Since we are going to meet with them again, in the other world. Why does the notion of "death" scare us, if we really are part of a transitional world? Where did we come from anyway?! How can we be so attached to something called "life" when we do not really know how come are we right here, right now in this particular life! How can we worry about "death" when death itself is our gate opener to the other world?! … Why do even bother to worry about such questions when we won't be an inch close to answering them …
Kundera: "And what is life worth if the rehearsal of life is life itself?"
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