my bloodied fangs

[It was amazing how manyfriends you could make by being bad at things, provided you were bad enough to be funny.~

- They’re just people. They’re just doing what people do, Sir.
- Of course, of course. You have to believe that, I appreciate. 
Otherwise you’d go quite mad. 
Otherwise you’d think you’re standing on a feather-thin bridge over the vaults of Hell. 
Otherwise existence would be a dark agony and the only hope would be that there is no life after death. 
I quite understand.~

It’s an unfair world, Child. Be glad you have friends.~]

Terry Pratchett

About 10 years ago I met Magrat. And we’ve been pretty much the same, I admit.

I wish I could be just as fierce as Granny or as jolly as Nanny, but I’m a confused and naïve dreamer, also kind of depressed and frustrated…. just as Magrat.

But Magrat has her fierce and angry moments, she taught me that you can be kind and brave and fight for what you believe and most important, to believe in the good that’s in everyone and that some people just refuse to accept as part of the world.

I woke up with a good feeling, looking at everything with bright eyes, even when I missed my bus and caught a thick rain without an umbrella it wouldn’t shake my feeling that today was a good day to be alive and well and living.

And then somewhen in the evening the ground vanished, the world took a spin around me and someone decreased the saturation in 50%.

Pratchett crossed the last door, he too was angry and fierce and kind and human. You don’t have to know some people personally to be thankful, admire and care for them.

But his illness was a really tough one. Alzheimer doesn’t care how bright or nice or clever you are, it will give you the buggers and everyone close to you will endure months and months of dealing with the progressive and inevitable loss of identity.

It’s not pretty, it’s not good, and I have cried more when I read about the first signs of his illness than today, because I know that he left at least knowing who he was. Now, people will talk about and read and they will republish his works, something that should’ve been done every now and then because they are amazing on their own.

You could say that when Death appears it makes people realize they have a Life.

What really hit me was when I went back in my feels and thought about Neil Gaiman, because apart from being great writers and artists, they are also great friends and there’s nothing like an artist to get what other artist cope.

In the end we are the result of those we choose to direct our love and what we choose to do with our Time. Pratchett choose to be true to the way he saw the world, he choose to do what he loved, leaving a legacy that will live as long as humankind insists with the hassle in the world.

This is just a humble bunch of words for a Good Friend, thank you for giving me Magrat and all the others, thanks for being great along with Neil Gaiman and for giving me one of the best literature I’ve ever had the pleasure to read. I hope the Embuggerance hasn’t buggered you that much, be in the peace we all end up meeting in our little lives, we know too well Death wouldn’t left anyone uninvited for his huge party…..