David Bowie is dead.
To the uninitiated, he was a pop star. His music has had an influence which ranges from Michael Jackson to Adele. He also starred in movies like The man who fell on earth. He defined and redefined the era he lived in not just through his indeterminate sexuality but also through his art. Why do geniuses seem like they are from another world or another era? How do we, as representatives of the great mediocre, deal with such outstanding talents? Why does death seem like the only answer to our collective ennui? Please do contribute.
