I told her, “I spent the half of my life HERE and I guess you’d die HERE.” 

She agreed saying, “Every single thing on this very STREET has changed except us.” Mentioning my father and herself.  

Oh you’ve also changed I thought to myself.
We kept walking in silence, sharing a smoke till we reached the spot. 

Said our goodbyes, parting ways.

She was a nice lady. Not very smart, but smart enough to be funny -sometimes- and stylish. When I first met her I was six and she was twenty-one. Had a live size grey-balloon alien figure at the entrance of her shop. With her black-white hair and funny looking friends, she was some lively punk lady. My dad owned the record shop right across. Still does.

And she still DOES own the one across. But the Alien disappeared along the way. 

So, is her punk hair and funny looking friends. 

I think it hurts my heart somehow, witnessing how these people are melting into life itself, slowly fading. It’s not too hard to see that they once were young too. They once had dreams just like yours. They wished for someone to be their lover, maybe wished to leave this STREET and start a new life somewhere else. Then again after all these years she’s alone, except for her mother and sister. Still runs the same shop. 

I witnessed her starting and ending tons of relationships for instance. I witnessed the flicker of hope in her eyes, and that flicker slowly waring off every single time. Even the times she didn’t speak of it. 

Maybe the problem was, that they eventually stopped dreaming at some point. Or, they kept on dreaming, but never took any action for ‘em. Which can be easily related to misbelief in their own dreams. And that misbelief leading into the lack of action-the action of dreaming-, it’s a form of ignorance perhaps. After all, we all live in a gigantic society repeatedly reminding us that “Ignorance is bliss.”

Now are they blessed, really? 

“No.” He answered. Standing there, ruthlessly lighting his cigarette.
“I imagine you’d pop out of existence at some point.” I answered. 
“Well that’s rude of you.” He continued in his silky tone.

And I wouldn’t imagine a balloon alien to have such a cool tone of a voice. 
…And smoking either. Or would I? …have I?

“You know, all these boundaries you are so obsessed about…”
“What about it?”
“It’s just unnecessary. For one thing, is it really important to be blessed? 
I mean if it is, in what aspect you think it is?”
“Well for one, I don’t know if I want to be blessed. But I know that I want to wander at least.” And then he smiled. A grey-balloon alien holding a burning cigarette in his right hand, SMILED at me.

“All these boundaries between physical and non-physical will remain imprecise for you
and your kind as long as you stick to that ‘thingy’ of yours.” Gesturing towards my body with his left hand.
“Then tell me, is there a way to not to stick to it?” Even if there was I thought to myself it meant that I need to stop being me as this consciousness. How could you remain ‘you’ if you’d expand your boundaries so drastically. That eventually means the death of you and perhaps the birth of well- ‘you’.
“I’ll tell you what, I can hear your thoughts.”
“So you’re in my head right?”
“Yes and no.” 

And then he vanished into nothingness in the blink of an eye, got me thinking… 
Perhaps that was it! Every time you expand your boundaries a little you’d die a little, 
to be born again that is. For all I know the experience of such, gets as painful as exciting it is. 

So perhaps, 
some are afraid of DEATH more than others.