I still wonder about the human instinct for self-preservation and how far it goes. Sometimes the boundary seems terribly thin.

I remember sitting on a rough stone wall on the Greek island of Hydra, looking out at the slate-grey waves and down at the water frothing between the rocks. I was fourteen, and I had a wild, almost overpowering urge to jump - or rather just to let myself overbalance and fall. I didn't understand it. I didn't want to die, and I was terrified at the idea of my body breaking on those rocks, but I had to climb off the wall because I was so afraid I would do it without meaning or wanting to.