Already parts of my soul are scattered across the globe. I was born in one land but have been reborn in many others. If the earth itself is moving, eternally revolving, why should I be forced to stand still? Don’t bury me in a box, I tell my daughter, or use my ashes to plant a tree. I’ve already given you my heart, left you with my words, the very bone and blood of me. If those, combined, cannot cross me over into the timelessness of your memory, then nothing else will.