The Night of the Moths

by Riccardo Bruni

It’s strange how we feel the need to connect with death. Look at it up close, so we can almost touch it. Like the way we slow down when we see an accident on the road. We pass nearby to try to see as much as possible, even though we know we won’t like what we see. And yet we can’t help it. We can’t look away.

once you’ve gotten so close to death that you can almost smell it, it’s nice to feel alive.

death is something dark, a black hole that arouses great fear even when it only brushes you.