In his bed, he considers the moment.
He ponders the idea that a great deal can be attributed to the moment between life and death. In that very moment, midway between the two, a great deal can happen. It is not only that moment when the likelihood of both life and death can be taken in equal measure, but all else. An athlete holds still while a medal is pinned. A waiter smiles as he uncorks a bottle of champagne. A detective looks down at a body at a crime scene. A child sees an ice-cream being proffered. An innocent man is lead to a place of execution. An artist stands back to view a finished painting. A girl is surprised when the bell sounds that indicates the end of the allotted exam time. A boy watches as the moon appears from behind a cloud. A woman cries with joy as she gives birth. A soldier being trained to kill by his government pauses to question it. A priest sitting back after writing his sermon.
These are all moments.
Such musings, he feels, are only jottings from the myriad forms of human entanglement. The moment itself is shared by both life and death. The moment of it splits the condition of each. It is not merely something that may suggest high stakes, much more than that. A variety of events far greater than involving the value of the moment. It is beyond the space that separates two points. It is beyond that intermediate instant in time.
He feels the moment. His own situation. His own immediate expectations. They preclude any certainties he may think he has regarding his present moment, midway between life and death.