Things just happen. When a consciousness realizes this, like Heraclitus, you can only weep. Because the self-representation of a mind is becoming aware that the struggle of being there is just the head of a random toss. Be or not to be is just the outcome of a coin. We are the heirs of the tradition of being there, because we are alive. Living beings are random objects that belong to the same story of keeping on being there. The first objects alive, that didn’t keep on staying alive, simply aren’t here to be represented.
We are the ones that stayed alive. For no reason. The logical connection is that the contrary doesn’t stand.
Being there is a serious case.
Or not.
You are alive and you can laugh about the absurdity of insisting in being there.
You can be laughing of your own absurdity in the disappearance of your being.
Representing the mere happening of your being there isn’t hilarious, is it? Convince the serious, bearded commentators that there is nothing so laughable in the being there. ‘Cause if we wouldn’t laugh, we would tear apart ourselves, which is not good for the being there we are representing….
Do you think you are the last representation? Good for you. 
Quoting Lucio Dalla,an Italian songwriter: “ power of the opera, where every drama is a false. But when you see those green eyes….”. I love you.
It is said on stage. Does it matter, my sweetheart?
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