The wise man told me a story about these two people in Mexico, a man and woman, who were the last two members of their tribe. They lived in the same little pueblo, one hut next to the other, but weren’t on speaking terms.The man spent his day in love with the woman. At night, the woman watched the man from her window as he drank and sang on his porch.
When the man died, the woman mourned, wearing black, only leaving her hut at night like a phantom.
When the woman died, the man pulled himself out of the grave, dusted himself off, and moved back in to his old hut.
Then he died. And she came back. And then she died. He came back…
I grew anxious and asked where the story ended. The wise man said, “The point is why and the answer is it wasn’t in the stars.”