Life itself is like a brushstroke in the History of the Universe. If we keep the last moments of the existence, we can compare it to the last and intimate contact of the brush with the canvas, which is almost imperceptible. But when referring to LIFE, the last sigh turns into something supreme, selfish, dissenting, painful, emotional, and even magical, I dare say. This is why there is always a place for doubt, for fair, for surprise or even for distrustful confidence, slackening tension or demoralised moral.