A smiling woman I am still in thirty and I have a cat nine times to die. Death is an art, similar to everything other than it, and I practice it with mastery. But there is a price in order to spy on my nuclei to listen to the pulses of my heart - Ah, it really beats! There is a price, a very expensive price For every word, for every touch For a few points of blood
The speaker reflects on her complex relationship with death, expressing an ironic appreciation for it, which she likens to an art form she has mastered. Despite being in her thirties and carrying the burden of her cat's multiple lives, she acknowledges the darker aspects of life and mortality. This duality is encapsulated in her fascination and fear of death.
She reveals that understanding her own heartbeat comes at a significant cost, suggesting that each emotional experience, each connection, carries its own price. Thus, her existence is intertwined with a cycle of sacrifice and vulnerability, where even the smallest bits of life and emotion demand a toll, resonating with the essence of her existence—each word and touch leaves an imprint on her soul.
