Intimations of Mortality through de-Cluttering.

I shall never need this comb, or the longer settings for the hair-clipper, again. For I am balding. And so, de-cluttering leads to thoughts on mortality, and wondering- is this why people swamp themselves in stuff? As some kind of dam against the inevitable end, when the atoms of which we have been composed are re-distributed throughout the universe, randomly, without meaning but with purpose?

I will offer these bits to a friend who also cuts his own hair but still has some to cut. If he doesn't want them, I shall recycle them, so that the atoms of their composition are re-distributed, without meaning but with purpose.