A Manifesto for a Metaphorical Death

We can be immortal.

We can dance around the pearly gates, sneak past the reaper’s scythe, give the finger to the Angel of Death.

In fact, we already do. For millennia we have slipped the chains of our mortality.

We are not fallible beings but shape-shifters, merely undertaking a transformation from one kind to the next.

We do not die.

We bite the dust. We give up the ghost. We push up daisies. These are not the actions of people dead in the ground but of breathing…