The end is inevitable and it is the same for each of us, but there are as many last chapters as there are people. Is there anything more intimate and universal than dying? We all have to go – no matter how slow or fast, expected or not, painless or in agony – we get lost, fade, our fire dies, we disappear. Why shouldn’t we be afraid? Can we find solace in others - those who are with us and those who come after we are gone? Is death a proof of solitude, or of universal human bond? Can we give in to it?