I will be young forever. We. Us. Just listen to our raucous laughter, our gist, our stories. We are forever cool, Forever 21. Does it seem possible that we won’t be young forever? That we won’t always be strong, alive, effervescent, fiery? That we won’t always be this indolent, sprawled on sofas, straddling dining chairs, peering at screens that reflect in our nerd glasses? That our bellies won’t be taut forever? How won’t we be like this forever? And we will never be bald. Our hair will never grey or fall out. Our eyes will never wrinkle, our flesh will never sag. We will be young forever. Don’t speak to me of Paradise. Don’t speak to me of hell. Don’t speak to me of purgatory. Don’t speak to me of death. This is what I know, this is how I feel. I am here and now and present and I will be young forever.

A king has 3 prisoners in his dungeon. They are to be executed but at the last moment, he has some mercy and proposes a game. He brings a bag with five tee-shirts. Each shirt is white in front, coloured behind. There are 2 shirts with red backs, and 3 shirts with blue backs. He has them all blindfolded, and then each prisoner has to pick a shirt and wear it.Still blindfolded, the king tells them that if a prisoner can correctly predict the colour on the back of the shirt he’s wearing, he will escape execution. The three men are told to stand in a straight line, one in front of the other. The first man, standing at the front of the line, can’t see either of the men behind him or their shirts. The second man, in the middle, can see only the first man and his shirt. The last man, at the rear, can see both other men and their shirts. None of the men can see the back of his own …