「死はとても静かなもので、少しも騒がしくない」という奇妙な親しみ

Spending time quietly in the hot spring town, 'I' discovered one morning a single 'bee' that had died, resting on the inn's roof. While other bees flew around busily living, that dead bee alone was cold and motionless. Looking in the evening, the dead bee had fallen from the roof to the ground. Staring at this quiet death, 'I' felt a strange familiarity: 'Dying is something quiet like that, not noisy at all.'