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Without a trace

December 17, 2015

Indeed we are like a blade of grass, a flower of the field: here today, gone tomorrow. And the place where we were will leave no trace of us, for life moves on. For indeed how long can people or place reserve the space we once occupied holding hard to a memory? It is best to prepare to be forgotten. And that does seem to demand more attention to matters of the spirit than a short-lived body.

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