I like to think that the end of the world will come, not with a bang, but with bird song.
You’ll be walking along, doing your own thing, when you’ll notice that a creeping quiet has descended upon you. Where’s the dull roar of distant traffic? Where’s the thrumming of planes in the sky? When did all the clatter stop?
You’ll look up from your little slice of life and notice you are – quite suddenly – alone in a great empty world, with only the soft sparrow-chirping in the treetops to comfort you.