After 15 years, this phrase is hilarious because it sounds a lot like work deadlines or diets: you talk about it for years, you create insane anxiety, and then when it arrives it lasts half an hour, is resolved with an acrobatic stab from a young girl and we're all back to fighting over who gets to sit in the uncomfortable chair (the Throne).

No one discusses the existence of untouchable masterpieces (Succession is the last). We all know that the last seasons of GoT were written in a rush, like those who left the stove on at home, but here we're talking about a different category: series that can change a life.

No one rules anything out. We can bow before perfection and simultaneously declare eternal love to a saga that broke our hearts and then trampled on its fragments.

It's like the difference between a Michelin-starred restaurant where you eat three grams of perfection and grandma's dinner where you walk out rolling but happy: you admire the "perfect" series, you inhabit the "necessary" ones.

May you continue to be that slightly troubled but charming old aunt: the one who made history, who ruined a couple of Christmases, but without whom the holidays would have been deadly boring.

Valar Morghulis, dear series. Everyone must die, but you've decided to rise again thanks to the spin-offs, proving that "what's dead may never die."