There are objects, and no one remembers them. There are people, and no one remembers these. There have been and there will be times that disappear. The strange notion that any of this can be kept (whatever ‘kept’ means, and shall one day mean) persists. But for now, it is pleasant to take a hand to the wet grass. It is good to feel the water breaking along the shore in bare feet. It can be frightening of course to hear storms overhead, so frightening that we will paint them with our own feelings, which they lack, and call these sometimes ‘frightening’. All these things and more will pass to nothing. It could be so, once we are gone, that we shall have created traces which the absence of any consciousness at all will never need to know about.