She was enjoying the sight of the little train (not unlike those model ones parents pretend to buy for their children but really want for themselves) puffing away in the mountains above. One minute she was comfortably lying in the grass, staring at its slowly revolving wheels, her gaze focusing on these wheels turning, turning, turning…

… the next she was running as if her life depended on it. There was something wrong with her legs: they were much shorter than they should have been. Two facts invaded her consciousness: she was a child once more and she was to die on that particular day. Arriving breathless on the platform, she could see that the train-for-death had reached the station and had started moving again after a brief pause. All her primary school friends were already onboard, showing amused faces at the windows, exclaiming: “Even on the day of her death, she will be late!” That they should all be dying on the same day seemed natural. She managed to jump onto the back of the last carriage, which had a rear open platform for boarding, like the old Parisian buses.

A long pleasant trip in the green valley… and the final stop. They all got out. Seemingly driven by some inner necessity, they started walking on the rails, which soon stuck to their shoes so that they did not have to flex their feet anymore and were simply sliding, effortlessly moving forward. When they entered a huge tunnel, the landscape did not disappear, only slightly darkened. After a while, a siding materialized on her left side, outside and inside the tunnel and she was guided on her own line. She barely had time to wave goodbye to the others before being swiftly absorbed in the glorious spectacle ahead. At the end of her track, a radiance had appeared, that became bigger (or was she getting even smaller?) as she progressed towards it: magnified, brighter and brighter, its wordless call irresistible – incredibly exciting and totally safe. She was getting nearer, she was dissolving into this new element, this was what they called passing away…

… the grass glistened with humid sparks on thousands of minuscule blossoms. The air was full of liquid-warm light. Birds sang. Her husband breathed softly near her. He sat in meditation humming a mantra, his presence like a caress on her skin. Serpenting under the snowy peaks in the distance, the empty railway tracks shone like silver. She stretched her full-grown body with sensual relish.

She was never afraid of death after that.