A year and two days ago, I found a dessicated bird on the balcony rail. Either it had recently and rather artfully fallen from the roof, or we simply hadn't noticed it for a couple of months—probably the latter since I vaguely remember having seen a dark spot on the railing, thinking it were a branch, a clump of dead leaves, something vegetal blown off a tree in a storm.
This is how it ends, more or less.
What if, instead of waiting (for what exactly?), instead of always looking back, I started from the end and worked backwards?