People die. No wonder about that. Someone's hope is to only to die respectably, not to be forgotten, not alone, not in an accident created by themselves or others. Often when the time comes, it is too late to fix it if we don't like the circumstances. A similar situation happens when you're brushing your hair... when you accidentally bump into a spontaneous dreadlock and gently try to districate it with your comb.... at a certain point, you ran out of time and lifelessly your body falls on its on gravity without resistance, with the comb still in your hair and your saliva oozing your face and on the tiles, and your body covered in bruises. In this case, there was no moment of realisation, an immediate gesture which led to an infinity of trauma for the many people involved. A 21 year old guy left on the streets covered in his blood and a 16 year old one, who's clean as his mum made him, who's holding a gun in his hands. This is a story of fortitude, a story that should remind us of how volatile our life is. This is about tragic accidents, the worse of the death's combinations, which happen so quickly your mind spends years to rationalise.