Each day, we wake slightly altered, and the person we were yesterday is dead. So why, one could say, be afraid of death, when death comes all the time?
We all have souls of different ages.
She was afraid of things that never happened. It continued to scare her; it didn’t matter how much you tried to reason with her or tried to calm her down. It wasn’t certain. She liked the warmth of the Sun because it was always there; she knew it will rise every day. She wasn’t afraid of the Sun; she didn’t have to worry about the Sun not rising the next day. With all her worries and fears, even though, most of them were imaginary, she still struggled to do the things she wanted to, like fall in love.
Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book.