Life often feels like a quiet walk between the unknown and the inevitable — a rhythm of breath, thought, and passing time. In this reflection, I explore the fragile thread that ties existence to its end, not to define life or death, but to question the space between them. Perhaps meaning is not found in answers, but in the act of wondering — in the silent pause between the inhale of life and the exhale of mortality.

Fiction is not only reserved for theatrical drama. Rather, fiction is the reality of our belief system. For what we tell ourselves is as fictional as what we would like to believe.

What of those who seemingly move silently through crowds as if their existence is a mere shadow of faint lights in the dark?