During the course of our lives, transcendental moments come along, and we are forced to sit up and take notice. Everybody has their moments. We all react differently, writes John Dickie in Oaxaca, Mexico.
It is difficult to figure out how to begin retelling the story of any one of those moments. Presumably, it is up to each person to do their best to convey the transcendence felt, and for each listener to absorb it as their own.
In this instance, all I can do is begin by telling you that, yesterday, for around a hundred minutes, I was dead.