My ordeals about death have revealed that the borderline between life and death is like a gap in two flickering of eyes. Because I do wonder why someone not too long seen is reported death; why people just die like that without any transparent augury. I know that is how I will also die one day. I can see death in my shadow, haunting me like a revengeful ghost. I have been waiting for that day when I will be proclaimed death like others whose deaths have preceded mine.As someone growing in a society where the epiphany of death being close to us than our jugular vein is blatant, I can say I am the testimony and prophecy of death, roaming around the streets drunk, taking souls with bravura. I have garnered manifold memories of bereavement enough to quench my persistent questioning of the vile philosophy that surrounds death. I am a memory of relatives stuck to death by over-speeding vehicles; of friends, electrocuted or of ones butchered by thugs in Ibadan or Lagos while on the mission of survival; of distant family members who slept but never woke up and of somersaulted cars that claimed lives within a minute.
