“Well, I think Joyce is suggesting the irony of our relationship with death,” I said flatly. “Good, Olivia,” Sebastian said, like I was a child in need of praise. “Tell us more.” I glanced at the passage. Unlike in college, the whole thing came into focus like a developing photograph. “Well, when we’re young, we live more authentically. But as we get older and become closer to our deaths, our perception changes. We live in a more fearful state.” I felt everyone staring at me. “It’s ironic because it’s when we’re older—when we’re approaching death and running out of time to live—that we should
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