We suffer the solace of our apprehensions of death at the end of the year.
A numbness of overcomes us with the gravity of festive rites.
We drink in order to contain the presentiments of our dread forebodings, with a sense of convergence of the greater things we cannot imagine.
The full weight of our existence collapses upon us like a crushing fullness of falling buildings.
We stand at a juncture. There are options presented we cannot choose.
Instead, we must obey the law of trajectory in the direction of time.
Only then can we unburden ourselves of the realisation that we are nothing.