But I wasn’t created for her death. Another, younger death will take care of her issue. I withdraw, I am erased. Perhaps another death can deal with her, and she can continue to change and become accustomed to another death, and even take it to her side, so that when its time comes, it will be ashamed to sit in front of her, hesitant, confused, telling her about her and those she loved, telling and telling, and from afar, it sees its death approaching it, approaching… approaching… getting closer… I disappear… I disappear… But that will not prevent me, “a gentleman to death,” from extending my hand and dancing Slow with the lady I have known for a long time, while her granddaughter gets out of her car, holding a newborn in her arm, and with the other arm, pushing open the gate of the large palace.