Imagine a road stretched towards the horizon and trees along the sides of the road. A gentle breeze blows by, surrounding you with a gentle embracing whisper of leaves. Are they talking about you? Do they shower you with praise or simply noting your flaws and imperfections? Green leaves turns brown and the crunching of dead leaves beneath your foot turns gentle whispers into snickers and laughter, the seemingly flat road is suddenly a climb and is layered with ice and snow. You inevitably slip and fall into a pit. You’re surrounded by brown leaves; you’re surrounded by death.
Rinse and repeat, that’s the cycle of life.