Falling Soldier

I was about 19 years old when I first saw a man die before my eyes. It was in the library. He was falling while standing. A bullet to the head. His consciousness at one with Brahman. His spirit flying on the back of a black crow en route to the undiscovered country. The Stygian boatman has received his fare. He and his picture break on through to the other side. The man who got close enough to capture a stranger's soul as it shuffled off it's mortal coil was my hero, Robert Capa.