The gods were sweetly kind to meBetter die in blaze of gloryThan be swatted in oblivionWithout a song, lost and unknownSir Sean, merci / for RIP
did the fly died drunk?.)
That's quite a strange and pretty photo, Sean. And there are worse ways to go, for flies or for people...
What a way to go and such a colourful combination ;-)
Claudia,'Sir' Sean bows to the poetess. :)Hans,I tried to rescue her, but she fought me bravely off.D.E.,welcome back. Hope you enjoyed a wonderful holiday.Now don't I like to think of drowning in a cask of my only man, but for sure there are worse ways to go.I'd prefer, though, to die in Morpheus' arms.CherryPie,Yes! And at the same time - some contemporaries would / will think "What an idiot" :) - I pondered what the fly may have felt, perhaps even thought.Did you read Coetzee's "Elisabeth Costello"? In chapter 3 you will find many thoughts (probably) better described than I could.