Sometimes we are nothing other than coffins sheltering lifeless souls. Everyone dies a few times before the pretty lively ticks, because a breeze of death is essential before the blossoming of life. For a while, everything around us goes dull and weary, but we just pretend we are alive, listening to the gentle hush of our sighs. Even the air that gives us life goes out of motivation then, striking our nostrils with weight of breath instead of the tender poke it used to give. The repeated visuals that keep flashing before our eyes percolates through our head, exhausting both body and mind and the strident noise of silence takes us to another universe where even the whispers of leaves rattle our minds. We get resurrected when we break out of that dangerously quite world to the former one with a revamped soul which can persist even in the tedious flow of life. We get to live again in the breath we take, visuals we see, sounds we hear and the things we touch as they will celebrate the gift of life from then on having done with the miseries of death while we are still alive.