I like everything at the very end: When you are tied to them enough and comfortable with them being around, but you ought to go. When you realize conversations are all temporary — very short. When you find all your concerns and unease fleeting and communications never-lasting. I like it when you set everything free, and they blossom. When you don’t care if people forget you, whether they write or correspond to you any later. When you watch them thrive without expectation or attachment, helping them appear more tender to you. I like it at the end, when Balian of Ibelin, the Defender of Jurealuem, returns to his village and becomes a blacksmith living with Sibylla, his former queen. I like it when you leave everything behind and hit the road with a suitcase, understanding that life is short and you should make the most of it.

At the very end, the sun starts warming you up; eventually, light rays mean something to you. Besides, life reminds you that it is transient and you are not meant to be here permanently; the divine feeling that death is closeby! I like it at the very end, when, with naked eyes, you see the absurdity of every idea, attachment, or relationship that was so dear to you, when the whole life becomes an act of letting go. At the very end, life becomes a stripped-down version of itself, and I find that beautiful.