Capturing the end is far from a trivial pursuit. The final gasp is of little, if any, importance. What clinches it is the moment of reconciliation with destiny.

Addendum (December 23, 2009)

A few days ago I saw a short documentary about the end of Nicolae Ceaușescu’s Romania. One of the people interviewed was a member of the small firing squad that executed the dictator after a hasty military tribunal. “When he realized this was the end,” the man said in a quiet voice, “tears appeared in his eyes.” In the executioner’s mind, the fallen tyrant felt repentant for all his sordid deeds as he was led to the brick wall where he would be brought to justice once and for all. But the mystery of the tears remains. For better or worse, most humans are barely aware of their sordid deeds. And especially if they are quite common, as most of them undoubtedly are. Unremarkable to boot, Ceaușescu was just another human being. And thus a plausible witness to the species’ coming woes.