Imagine radiant, colourful fireworks exploding in your chest.
They leave only ribbons of tattered flesh and a pool of blood. The pain is unbearable, but when they exploded, the sight was so beautiful it left you speechless, and thus you don't harbor any regrets. When Hurt and Art mingle, in a way that makes you feel alive in your nerves and in your cells, the explosion seems like a fair price. A price I willingly paid when I read Uncharted.