"And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. " -by Sylvia Plath What would you do if you suddenly realize that your life, as you have known it, is about to be over? That your memories will slowly perish. This existence will fade into darkness. And your disappearance might leave a momentary void in hearts of those who have known and loved you only to be eventually filled with new appearances? And your absence will be forgotten and all that is left of you will be memories that will plague them who would care to ponder upon your existence? Would then the rights and wrongs of this world matter to you? Will you be bothered to look for greater good when you can never be there to realize the outcomes of such deeds? What does a dying soul yearn more: welfare or destruction? Does he pray for blooming or perdition? Are we inherently generous or jealous? Why are humans so scare