what would you die for?

perhaps i've spent too much time in the great north, a place i find is terrible for one's complexion, and the forlorn faces of drunk finns coupled with the worrying statistics on their suicide rates has got me thinking, in this airport louge, as my eyes are heavy with sleep, what for? if life is such a gift, can death be one too? i've always thought it could be. for an ideal. for the person you love. even for yourself. perhaps i should not have brought with me that cheery fellow that is cesare pavese, who thought he'd leave us with the following parting words:

«Perdono tutti e a tutti chiedo perdono. Va bene? Non fate troppi pettegolezzi», hand-written in the Dialoghi con Leuco, by his bedside table.

and i think, why oh why? surely it takes life to love life. anyway, damn those bloody finns. if i never see one again in my life i will call myself lucky. and i'm putting this book away. and turning to the far more fruitful, National Enquirer. tits. arse. etc. etc. and maybe a gummy or two.