Hair

A little while ago, I sat behind a balding man on the bus. He was balding from the middle region of his head, and it had spread in concentric circles towards the back of his head. Hair matted where it hadn't been scorched by disrepair, the balding man's head gave me cause to pause. An idea of all life seemed to exude from his dome: despite being individuals, we become a monolithic whole in the context in which we are observed; in being part of the countless faceless, many get shaved off never to be seen in the physical, only experienced as an ever fading idea; eventually, entropy wins - we all, in the anonymity of existence, disappear, leaving a barren wasteland.

Am I morbid? Perhaps. But in that moment of almost obsessive observation of the balding man, I realised that, yes, it all must end, but while we remain the elements of a crowning feature, we might as well recognise that we live...or something.

Which brings me to suicide and the whole condolence issue. I'll do that tomorrow.