It is said that life comes into being as a light and delicate object.

Such is a newborn’s life, light, faintly glowing over the top of the head, almost detached from the body, lovely prey of negligible value.

With the years, life grows, and slowly descends from the top of the head to the middle of the chest. Adolescence, which experts agree to be a most troubled and dangerous time, occurs as life travels behind the translucent skin of the neck, finding itself once again painfully close to the outside world.

People used to think that life stopped growing once it had settled inside the heart. But more recent measurements have shown that it keeps accumulating weight, sinking always deeper into the heart.

Who would know? People have done terrible things, ripping other people’s chests open, so they could get a glimpse at their own secrets. They snatched away what didn’t belong to them, measured everything, put labels on all the parts. They prepared potions full of life and sung songs of immortality.

People thought they could live forever. Whether they succeeded or not is, to this day, a matter of speculation.