Dying

She's dying. Slowly, without the big fanfare. She, herself, told me a while ago, as a physician's observation, that when people are nearing death, they detach themselves from the world. Now, it's her turn; I can sense it. She does not react normally to casual mentions about the now, the world, even her own. She has lost curiosity even for things she used to have interest in. And the confusion... She is somewhere else, far... Then, she reverted to a form of childhood. She wants to play, in a silly way... Coming down to her is not easy, as if death is to me a stranger, and I am immortal...