What images swirl through the dying mind of a man who’s been peppered with shot? Does life pass in review, as some have claimed true? Is he judged and found wanting? Then what?
Or does he embrace and take leave of this place as life’s’ blood empties out of his veins. Is the thought of her face the one instance of Grace When only a moment remains.
( On the 35th anniversary of John Lennon's ****** by Mark Chapman)