Death is ...

I was born into the Carnival. I've done all my living, sleeping, playing, growing, and throwing up at the Carnival. When I die, I won't escape it - not that I'd want to. Death is that black stripe above my head on the measuring board. When I've reached it, then I can go on the gnarly rides. 

(p1-2 Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl: Wide-Eyed Wonder in God's Spoken World)