Is this all there is. She asked herself staring into the mirror. Lines, memories, images from a lifetime, a life which, all of a sudden, stares into nothingness. The void, the lack of desire, the lack of strength, the lack� What obscure labyrinths have been activated to produce such an array of images? One can be accompanied all one�s life but death is the only destiny to which one travels alone. Maybe that is her biggest fear, even with somebody holding her hand or muttering comforting words into her ear, the threshold is crossed in loneliness, and on the other side, the void. Don�t let go of me, she heard herself saying, as if the fact that somebody was holding her hands would change anything.
Maybe her soul will linger for a while, close to the body which it inhabited for so many years, but later, she will also depart, as the conscience, the thoughts, the joys, the sadness, a whole life is erased in a second, only the void remains.
But why be afraid. She fears that her memory will die as well, not being remembered, or evoked, not being quoted, the silence of those who forget.