A sort of poetic justice

I come back on my post about the execution of Bin Laden. I cannot say murder, for obvious reasons. Bin Laden was not murdered, he was killed. It brought a certain catharis to the Americans and the world in general, or at least the West. Today, I was thinking how fitting it was that he died in May, when spring is in full bloom and turning into. I am sure he couldn't care less, but there is a sort of poetic justice in it. I always thought that dying during springtime was the most cruel time of death. Dying on a beautiful autumn day too, but that is terribly unfair. Bin Laden's death was pretty much as fair as a death can be. I hope we have a beautiful May, especially in Pakistan.