Saturday, 4 April 2015

Death and Frustration.

Every time I watch a murder mystery on the TV I’m struck by the contrast between two statements:

1. A murder has been committed.

2. A person is dead.

They always seem somehow unconnected. One is saying ‘somebody has broken the most important of our society’s laws.’ That’s a matter of simple logic; it’s mundane, banal even. The other is saying ‘something which once existed no longer exists.’ That’s the real mystery. How can it be? Where did it go? How does something just vanish? Now you see it, now you don’t. What sort of perverse magic is this?

The ending of any life is a matter of both sadness and annoyance to me – even when it’s the life of that innocuous little brown bird which died in my hands a few days ago. It’s unfair. It doesn’t make sense. It’s an inexcusable failing on the part of whatever force rules us. There’s something wrong with it, and I can’t get to the bottom of what it is.

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