Why do we cry? To gather fellow  human beings? What about the muted cry? What about the cry we cry for ourselves?Of course , till absurdity rings its buzzer in the colorless scentless silence called consciousness.
And if it erases all the definition of mental pain what will we cry for? Only physical pain?

Why is it necessary to mourn a death?  To  mourn a defeat?....to smooth-en the sharp edges suspended in air?...to put a cover over the nudity of our alienness?


(Just some random thoughts on reading The old man and the sea)