No I
The finality of death fascinates me. The biological engine that makes up who we are is snuffed out in an instant, and the sentient life form that once was is no more. Even a simple thought, such as “I like the color blue,” no longer matters, because the “I” in the subject no longer exists, and it all occurs without pomp, without circumstance. In nature, the organism merely desiccates, the once living, thinking, postulating, dreaming, philosophizing brain, that opinionated and…