A thin fence separates the two worlds.
It isn’t clear which world stakes a claim to the fence itself.
Perhaps it is the other world; some of their folk seem to be always sitting on the fence.
Sometimes one of them falls over to our side. He then quickly springs up, mutters an apology, dusts himself, and jumps back on to the fence or over it and saunters away on the other side.
Most of us in our world want to be neither on the fence nor on the other side. We are happy where we are and, if given a choice, would like to stay here forever.
But sometimes one of our own tries to blend in with the other-worldly folk.
Sometimes they pass on.
More commonly, they tread precariously on the fence, as if attempting a delicate tightrope walk between this world and the other.
Sometimes they fall back on to our side. Sometimes the other side wins. But only if their time has come.
Of course, none of us gets to choose when the time is right.