The Haanta Series venerates Alan Rickman #RIPAlanRickman

It is an unjust and cruel world that takes the sovereign and the prince of darkness from their subjects in one week. I have been raving about all the incongruities of this horrid sufferance for the last two hours. My heart is broken, and I am unfit for anything. I have resigned myself to the business of being miserable. All of the great artists I have grown up with are dying, and I feel as though there is no happiness left in the world. This will change presently, I hope, but for now, I cannot see joy for all the dejection crowding in front of it.

The agonies of life know no abatement. It is a disgusting trick of existence to have us surmount sorrow only to plunge us back into it. I have no words to express on the death of such a titan beyond those of selfish indignation. And it is selfish, to wish him still here with us when he had been harbouring such a vile and virulent illness, but there appears little sense in life; there is only the consternation and constant agitation of wondering what it is all about.

There is also art: the endeavour to express why we are here and what is expected of us. Most of us who flounder about the pages and the canvas and the theatre can only hope to equal the majesty of what Alan Rickman has offered us. Such a life, such an exquisite exposition of the human condition, will never and can never be rivaled. I am so unequal to conveying a tenth of what I really feel at present, and when I consider that we will never again see the triumph of emotion of Alan Rickman on the screen or stage, I am useless for any real conveyance. I first saw him act in 1989, and even at such a young age as I was, I thought he was brilliant then, and my admiration of his powers only increased as I grew older. It is nearly a thirty-years acquaintance, and though we had never met, he was so much a part of my life that it is unconscionable to know that the world must move without him now.

The light of life has diminished, and while we have lost so many giants over the last year, it seems particularly unethical to have Alan Rickman gone at such a time. Such an unexceptionable being as one who could communicate our own human feebleness and sensibility so well.

I cannot stay long, for I must away, and where I go is a secret...