They were walking slowly. The tall man was solemn, well dressed, with a grey beard and blushed cheeks; the other one, thin, unshaven, looked like recovering from disease. They were absorbed in conversation, and the tall one stopped now and then, fingering his beard like willing to carefully weight his words:
- Life is too short for everything. Laughing and crying, to enjoy and to get bored... and as soon as you are born you must get ready to die. That's why babies feel like crying, because they feel it.
-They feel what?
- The smell of death spreading around... then one gets used.